~n 


TOM 
OGAN 


F-HOPKINSON  SMITH 


(in      < 


L 


Lathers  shrank  back,  cowering  before  her  (page  27) 


TOM  GROGAN 

BY 

F.   HOPKINSON    SMITH 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
CHARLES  S.  REIN  HART 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1895  and  1896, 
By  THE  CENTURY  CO. 

Copyright,  1896, 
By  F.   HOPKINSON   SMITH. 

All  rights  reserved. 


FIFTIETH   THOUSAND 


CONTENTS 


I.   Babcock's  Discovery i 

II.  A  Board  Fence  loses  a  Plank  15 

III.  Sergeant  Duffy's  Little  Game        .  .28 

IV.  A  Walking  Delegate  learns  a  New  Step  50 
V.   A  Word  from  the  Tenements   ...        .65 

VI.   The  Big  Gray  goes  Hungry   ....         74 
VII.  The  Contents  of  Cully's  Mail         .  .    83 

VIII.   Pop  Mullins's  Advice 94 

IX.  What  a  Sparrow  saw  ,        .        „        ,        .        .106 

X.  Cully  wins  by  a  Neck       .        .        .        ,        .114 

XI.   A  Two-Dollar  Bill       .        .        .        .        .         .126 

XII.  Cully's  Night  out      ......       138 

XIII.  Mr.  Quigg  draws  a  Plan 153 

XIV.  Blossom-Week 164 

XV.  In  the  Shadow  of  Death   .        <,        .        .         .173 

XVI.   A  Friend  in  Need     ......       189 

XVII.  A  Daniel  come  to  Judgment     .  .        .201 


249004 


TOM    GROGAN 


BABCOCK  S    DISCOVERY 

SOMETHING  worried  Babcock.  One 
could  see  that  from  the  impatient  ges- 
ture with  which  he  turned  away  from  the 
ferry  window  on  learning  he  had  half  an 
hour  to  wait.  He  paced  the  slip  with  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets,  his  head  on  his  chest. 
Every  now  and  then  he  stopped,  snapped 
open  his  watch  and  shut  it  again  quickly,  as 
if  to  hurry  the  lagging  minutes. 

For  the  first  time  in  years  Tom  Grogan, 
who  had  always  unloaded  his  boats,  had 
failed  him.  A  scow  loaded  with  stone  for 
the  sea-wall  that  Babcock  was  building  for 
the  Lighthouse  Department  had  lain  three 
days  at  the  government  dock  without  a 
bucket  having  been  swung  across  her  decks. 
His  foreman  had  just  reported  that  there 
was  not  enough  material  to  last  the  concrete- 


TOM   GROGAN 

mixers  two  hours.  If  Grogan  did  not  begin 
work  at  once,  the  divers  must  come  up. 

Heretofore  to  turn  over  to  Grogan  the  un- 
loading of  material  for  any  submarine  work 
had  been  like  feeding  grist  to  a  mill  —  so 
many  tons  of  concrete  stone  loaded  on  the 
scows  by  the  stone  crushing  company  had 
meant  that  exact  amount  delivered  by  Gro- 
gan on  Babcock's  mixing-platforms  twenty- 
four  hours  after  arrival,  ready  for  the  divers 
below.  This  was  the  way  Grogan  had 
worked,  and  he  had  required  no  watching. 

Babcock's  impatience  did  not  cease  even 
when  he  took  his  seat  on  the  upper  deck  of 
the  ferry-boat  and  caught  the  welcome  sound 
of  the  paddles  sweeping  back  to  the  landing 
at  St.  George.  He  thought  of  his  men  stand- 
ing idle,  and  of  the  heavy  penalties  which 
would  be  inflicted  by  the  Government  if  the 
winter  caught  him  before  the  section  of  wall 
was  complete.  It  was  no  way  to  serve  a 
man,  he  kept  repeating  to  himself,  leaving 
his  gangs  idle,  now  when  the  good  weather 
might  soon  be  over  and  a  full  day's  work 
could  never  be  counted  upon.  Earlier  in  the 
season  Grogan's  delay  would  not  have  been 
so  serious. 


BABCOCK'S    DISCOVERY 

But  one  northeaster  as  yet  had  struck 
the  work.  This  had  carried  away  some  of 
the  upper  planking  —  the  false  work  of  the 
coffer-dam ;  but  this  had  been  repaired  in  a 
few  hours  without  delay  or  serious  damage. 
After  that  the  Indian  summer  had  set  in  — 
soft,  dreamy  days  when  the  winds  dozed  by 
the  hour,  the  waves  nibbled  along  the  shores, 
and  the  swelling  breast  of  the  ocean  rose 
and  fell  as  if  in  gentle  slumber. 

But  would  this  good  weather  last  ?  Bab- 
cock  rose  hurriedly,  as  this  anxiety  again 
took  possession  of  him,  and  leaned  over  the 
deck-rail,  scanning  the  sky.  He  did  not  like 
the  drift  of  the  low  clouds  off  to  the  west ; 
southeasters  began  that  way.  It  looked  as 
though  the  wind  might  change. 

Some  men  would  not  have  worried  over 
these  possibilities.  Babcock  did.  He  was 
that  kind  of  man. 

When  the  boat  touched  the  shore,  he 
sprang  over  the  chains,  and  hurried  through 
the  ferry-slip. 

"  Keep  an  eye  out,  sir,"  the  bridge-tender 
called  after  him,  —  he  had  been  directing 
him  to  Grogan's  house,  —  "perhaps  Tom 
may  be  on  the  road." 

3 


TOM   GROGAN 

Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  Babcock 
that,  so  far  as  he  could  remember,  he  had 
never  seen  Mr.  Thomas  Grogan,  his  steve- 
dore. He  knew  Grogan's  name,  of  course, 
and  would  have  recognized  his  signature 
affixed  to  the  little  cramped  notes  with  which 
his  orders  were  always  acknowledged,  but 
the  man  himself  might  have  passed  unno- 
ticed within  three  feet  of  him.  This  is  not 
unusual  where  the  work  of  a  contractor  lies 
in  scattered  places,  and  he  must  often  de- 
pend on  strangers  in  the  several  localities. 

As  he  hurried  over  the  road  he  recalled 
the  face  of  Grogan's  foreman,  a  big  blond 
Swede,  and  that  of  Grogan's  daughter,  a 
slender  fair-haired  girl,  who  once  came  to 
the  office  for  her  father's  pay ;  but  all  efforts 
at  reviving  the  lineaments  of  Grogan  failed. 

With  this  fact  clear  in  his  mind,  he  felt  a 
tinge  of  disappointment.  It  would  have  re- 
lieved his  temper  to  unload  a  portion  of  it 
upon  the  offending  stevedore.  Nothing  cools 
a  man's  wrath  so  quickly  as  not  knowing  the 
size  of  the  head  he  intends  to  hit. 

As  he  approached  near  enough  to  the  sea- 
wall to  distinguish  the  swinging  booms  and 
the  puffs  of  white  steam  from  the  hoisting- 


BABCOCK'S    DISCOVERY 

engines,  he  saw  that  the  main  derrick  was  at 
work  \owering  the  buckets  of  mixed  concrete 
to  the  divers.  Instantly  his  spirits  rose. 
The  delay  on  his  contract  might  not  be  so 
serious.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Grogan  had 
started  work. 

When  he  reached  the  temporary  wooden 
fence  built  by  the  Government,  shutting  off 
the  view  of  the  depot  yard,  with  its  coal- 
docks  and  machine-shops,  and  neared  the 
small  door  cut  through  its  planking,  a  voice 
rang  out  clear  and  strong  above  the  din  of 
the  mixers :  — 

"  Hold  on,  ye  wall-eyed  macaroni !  Do  ye 
want  that  fall  cut  ?  Turn  that  snatch-block, 
Cully,  and  tighten  up  the  watch-tackle. 
Here,  cap'n,  lend  a  hand.  Lively  now,  lively, 
before  I  straighten  out  the  hull  gang  of  ye  !  " 

The  voice  had  a  ring  of  unquestioned  au- 
thority. It  was  not  quarrelsome  or  abusive 
or  bullying  —  only  earnest  and  forceful. 

"  Ease  away  on  that  guy  !  Ease  away,  I 
tell  ye!"  it  continued,  rising  in  intensity. 
"  So  —  all  gone  !  Now,  haul  out,  Cully,  and 
let  that  other  team  back  up." 

Babcock  pushed  open  the  door  in  the  fence 
and  stepped  in.  A  loaded  scow  lay  close  be- 
5 


TOM  GROGAN 

side  the  string-piece  of  the  government  wharf. 
Alongside  its  forward  hatch  was  rigged  a 
derrick  with  a  swinging  gaff.  The  "fall" 
led  through  a  snatch-block  in  the  planking 
of  the  dock,  and  operated  an  iron  bucket 
that  was  hoisted  by  a  big  gray  horse  driven 
by  a  boy.  A  gang  of  men  were  filling  these 
buckets,  and  a  number  of  teams  being  loaded 
with  their  dumped  contents.  The  captain  of 
the  scow  was  on  the  dock,  holding  the  guy. 

At  the  foot  of  the  derrick,  within  ten  feet 
of  Babcock,  stood  a  woman  perhaps  thirty- 
five  years  of  age,  with  large,  clear  gray  eyes, 
made  all  the  more  luminous  by  the  deep,  rich 
color  of  her  sunburnt  skin.  Her  teeth  were 
snow-white,  and  her  light  brown  hair  was 
neatly  parted  over  a  wide  forehead.  She 
wore  a  long  ulster  half  concealing  her  well- 
rounded,  muscular  figure,  and  a  black  silk 
hood  rolled  back  from  her  face,  the  strings 
falling  over  her  broad  shoulders,  revealing  a 
red  silk  scarf  loosely  wound  about  her  throat, 
the  two  ends  tucked  in  her  bosom.  Her 
feet  were  shod  in  thick-soled  shoes  laced 
around  her  well-turned  ankles,  and  her  hands 
were  covered  by  buckskin  gauntlets  creased 
with  wear.  From  the  outside  breast-pocket 
6 


BABCOCK'S   DISCOVERY 

of  her  ulster  protruded  a  time-book,  from 
which  dangled  a  pencil  fastened  to  a  hempen 
string.  Every  movement  indicated  great 
physical  strength,  perfect  health,  and  a  thor- 
ough control  of  herself  and  her  surroundings. 
Coupled  with  this  was  a  dignity  and  repose 
unmistakable  to  those  who  have  watched  the 
handling  of  large  bodies  of  workingmen  by 
some  one  leading  spirit,  master  in  every  tone 
of  the  voice  and  every  gesture  of  the  body. 
The  woman  gave  Babcock  a  quick  glance  of 
interrogation  as  he  entered,  and,  receiving 
no  answer,  forgot  him  instantly. 

"  Come,  now,  ye  blatherin'  Dagos,"  —  this 
time  to  two  Italian  shovelers  filling  the  buck- 
ets, —  "  shall  I  throw  one  of  ye  overboard  to 
wake  ye  up,  or  will  I  take  a  hand  meself  ? 
Another  shovel  there  —  that  bucket's  not 
half  full  "  —  drawing  one  hand  from  her  side 
pocket  and  pointing  with  an  authoritative 
gesture,  breaking  as  suddenly  into  a  good- 
humored  laugh  over  the  awkwardness  of 
their  movements. 

Babcock,  with  all    his    curiosity    aroused, 

watched  her  for  a  moment,  forgetting  for  the 

time  his  own  anxieties.     He  liked  a  skilled 

hand,    and   he   liked  push   and   grit.      This 

7 


TOM   GROGAN 

woman  seemed  to  possess  all  three.  He  was 
amazed  at  the  way  in  which  she  handled 
her  men.  He  wished  somebody  as  clear- 
headed and  as  capable  were  unloading  his 
boat.  He  began  to  wonder  who  she  might 
be.  There  was  no  mistaking  her  nationality. 
Slight  as  was  her  accent,  her  direct  descent 
from  the  land  of  the  shamrock  and  the  shilla- 
lah  was  not  to  be  doubted.  The  very  tones  of 
her  voice  seemed  saturated  with  its  national 
spirit  —  "a  flower  for  you  when  you  agree 
with  me,  and  a  broken  head  when  you  don't." 
But  underneath  all  these  outward  indications 
of  dominant  power  and  great  physical  strength 
he  detected  in  the  lines  of  the  mouth  and 
eyes  a  certain  refinement  of  nature.  There 
was,  too,  a  fresh,  rosy  wholesomeness,  a 
sweet  cleanliness,  about  the  woman.  These, 
added  to  the  noble  lines  of  her  figure,  would 
have  appealed  to  one  as  beauty,  and  only  that 
had  it  not  been  that  the  firm  mouth,  well- 
set  chin,  and  deep,  penetrating  glance  of  the 
eye  overpowered  all  other  impressions. 

Babcock  moved  down  beside  her. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  madam,  where  I  can 
find  Thomas  Grogan  ?  " 

"  Right  in  front  of  ye,"  she  answered,  turn- 
8 


BABCOCK'S   DISCOVERY 

ing  quickly,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  like  that 
of  a  great  hound  baffled  in  hunt.  "  I  'm  Tom 
Grogan.     What  can  I  do  for  ye  ?  " 

"  Not  Grogan   the   stevedore  ? "    Babcock 
asked  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,    Grogan    the    stevedore.       Come  ! 
Make  it  short,  —  what  can  I  do  for  ye  ?  " 

"  Then   this    must    be  my  boat.     I  came 
down " — 

"  Ye  're  not  the  boss  ?  "  —  looking  him  over 
slowly  from  his  feet  up,  a  good-natured  smile 
irradiating  her  face,  her  eyes  beaming,  every 
tooth  glistening.  "  There  's  me  hand.  I  'm 
glad  to  see  ye.  I  've  worked  for  ye  off  and  on 
for  four  years,  and  niver  laid  eyes  on  ye  till 
this  minute.  Don't  say  a  word.  I  know  it. 
I  've  kept  the  concrete  gangs  back  half  a  day, 
but  I  could  n't  help  it.  I  've  had  four  horses 
down  with  the  'zooty,  and  two  men  laid 
up  with  dip'thery.  The  Big  Gray  Cully's 
drivin'  over  there  —  the  one  that 's  a-hoistin' 
—  ain't  fit  to  be  out  of  the  stables.  If  ye 
were  n't  behind  in  the  work,  he  'd  have  two 
blankets  on  him  this  minute.  But  I  'm  here 
meself  now,  and  I  '11  have  her  out  to-night  if 
I  work  till  daylight.  Here,  cap'n,  pull  yerself 
together.  This  is  the  boss." 
9 


TOM   GROGAN 

Then  catching  sight  of  the  boy  turning  a 
handspring  behind  the  horse,  she  called  out 
again :  — 

"  Now,  look  here,  Cully,  none  of  your 
skylarkin'.  There 's  the  dinner  whistle.  Un- 
hitch the  Big  Gray ;  he  's  as  dry  as  a  bone." 

The  boy  loosened  the  traces  and  led  the 
horse  to  water,  and  Babcock,  after  a  word 
with  the  Captain,  and  an  encouraging  smile 
to  Tom,  turned  away.  He  meant  to  go  to 
the  engineer's  office  before  his  return  to 
town,  now  that  his  affairs  with  Grogan  were 
settled.  As  he  swung  back  the  door  in  the 
board  fence,  he  stumbled  over  a  mere  scrap 
of  humanity  carrying  a  dinner-pail.  The 
mite  was  peering  through  the  crack  and 
calling  to  Cully  at  the  horse-trough.  He 
proved  to  be  a  boy  of  perhaps  seven  or  eight 
years  of  age,  but  with  the  face  of  an  old  man 
—  pinched,  weary,  and  scarred  all  over  with 
suffering  and  pain.  He  wore  a  white  tennis- 
cap  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  a  short  gray 
jacket  that  reached  to  his  waist.  Under  one 
arm  was  a  wooden  crutch.  His  left  leg  was 
bent  at  the  knee,  and  swung  clear  when  he 
jerked  his  little  body  along  the  ground.  The 
other,  though  unhurt,  was  thin  and  bony,  the 
10 


BABCOCK'S    DISCOVERY 

yarn  stocking  wrinkling  over  the  shrunken 
calf. 

Beside  him  stood  a  big  billy-goat,  harnessed 
to  a  two-wheeled  cart  made  of  a  soap-box. 

As  Babcock  stepped  aside  to  let  the  boy 
pass  he  heard  Cully  shouting  in  answer  to 
the  little  cripple's  cries.  "  Cheese  it,  Patsy. 
Here  's  Pete  Lathers  comin'  down  de  yard. 
Look  out  fer  Stumpy.  He  '11  have  his  dog 
on  him." 

Patsy  laid  down  the  pail  and  crept  through 
the  door  again,  drawing  the  crutch  after  him. 
The  yardmaster  passed  with  a  bulldog  at  his 
heels,  and  touching  his  hat  to  the  contractor, 
turned  the  corner  of  the  coal-shed. 

"  What  is  your  name  ? "  said  Babcock 
gently.  A  cripple  always  appealed  to  him, 
especially  a  child. 

"  My  name's  Patsy,  sir,"  looking  straight 
up  into  Babcock's  eyes,  the  goat  nibbling  at 
his  thin  hand. 

"  And  who  are  you  looking  for  ? " 

"  I  come  down  with  mother's  dinner,  sir. 
She 's  here  working  on  the  dock.  There  she 
is  now." 

"  I  thought  ye  were  niver  comin'  wid  that 
dinner,  darlint,"  came  a  woman's  voice. 
ii 


TOM  GROGAN 

"  What  kept  ye  ?  Stumpy  was  tired,  was  he  ? 
Well,  niver  mind." 

The  woman  lifted  the  little  fellow  in  her 
arms,  pushed  back  his  cap  and  smoothed  his 
hair  with  her  fingers,  her  whole  face  beaming 
with  tenderness. 

"  Gimme  the  crutch,  darlint,  and  hold  on 
to  me  tight,  and  we  '11  get  under  the  shed 
out  of  the  sun  till  I  see  what  Jennie  's  sent 
me."  At  this  instant  she  caught  Babcock's 
eye. 

"  Oh,  it 's  the  boss.  Sure,  I  thought  ye  'd 
gone  back.  Pull  the  hat  off  ye,  me  boy  ;  it 's 
the  boss  we  're  workin'  for,  the  man  that 's 
buildin'  the  wall.  Ye  see,  sir,  when  I  'm  driv' 
like  I  am  to-day,  I  can't  go  home  to  dinner, 
and  me  Jennie  sends  me  —  big  —  man  — 
Patsy  —  down  "  —  rounding  out  each  word 
in  a  pompous  tone,  as  she  slipped  her  hand 
under  the  boy's  chin  and  kissed  him  on  the 
cheek. 

After  she  had  propped  him  between  two 
big  spars,  she  lifted  the  cover  of  the  tin  pail. 

"  Pigs'  feet,  as  I  'm  alive,  and  hot  cabbage, 
and  the  coffee  a-b'ilin'  too  !  "  she  said,  turning 
to  the  boy  and  pulling  out  a  tin  flask  with  a 
screw  top,  the  whole  embedded  in  the  smoking 

12 


BABCOCK'S   DISCOVERY 

cabbage.  "  There,  we  '11  be  after  puttin'  it 
where  Stumpy  can't  be  rubbin'  his  nose  in 
it "  —  setting  the  pail,  as  she  spoke,  on  a 
rough  anchor-stone. 

Here  the  goat  moved  up,  rubbing  his  head 
in  the  boy's  face,  and  then  reaching  around 
for  the  pail. 

"  Look  at  him,  Patsy  !  Git  out,  ye  imp,  or 
I  '11  hurt  ye  !  Leave  that  kiver  alone  !  "  She 
laughed  as  she  struck  at  the  goat  with  her 
empty  gauntlet,  and  shrank  back  out  of  the 
way  of  his  horns. 

There  was  no  embarrassment  over  her  in- 
formal dinner,  eaten  as  she  sat  squat  in  a 
fence-corner,  an  anchor-stone  for  a  table,  and 
a  pile  of  spars  for  a  chair.  She  talked  to 
Babcock  in  an  unabashed,  self-possessed  way, 
pouring  out  the  smoking  coffee  in  the  flask 
cup,  chewing  away  on  the  pigs'  feet,  and 
throwing  the  bones  to  the  goat  who  sniffed 
them  contemptuously.  "  Yes,  he  's  the  young- 
est of  our  children,  sir.  He  and  Jennie  — 
that 's  home,  and  'most  as  tall  as  meself  — 
are  all  that 's  left.  The  other  two  went  to 
heaven  when  they  was  little  ones." 

"  Can't  the  little  fellow's  leg  be  straight- 
ened ? "    asked    Babcock,    in    a   tone   which 

13 


TOM   GROGAN 

plainly  showed  his  sympathy  for  the  boy's 
suffering. 

"  No,  not  now  ;  so  Dr.  Mason  says.  There 
was  a  time  when  it  might  have  been,  but  I 
could  n't  take  him.  I  had  him  over  to  Quar- 
antine again  two  years  ago,  but  it  was  too 
late  ;  it  'd  growed  fast,  they  said.  When  he 
was  four  years  old  he  would  be  under  the 
horses'  heels  all  the  time,  and  a-climbin'  over 
them  in  the  stable,  and  one  day  the  Big  Gray 
fetched  him  a  crack,  and  broke  his  hip.  He 
did  n't  mean  it,  for  he  's  as  dacint  a  horse  as 
I  've  got  ;  but  the  boys  had  been  a-worritin' 
him,  and  he  let  drive,  thinkin',  most  likely, 
it  was  them.  He  's  been  a-hoistin'  all  the 
mornin'."  Then,  catching  sight  of  Cully 
leading  the  horse  back  to  work,  she  rose  to 
her  feet,  all  the  fire  and  energy  renewed  in 
her  face. 

"  Shake  the  men  up,  Cully  !  I  can't  give 
'em  but  half  an  hour  to-day.  We  're  behind 
time  now.  And  tell  the  cap'n  to  pull  them 
macaronis  out  of  the  hold,  and  start  two  of 
'em  to  trimmin'  some  of  that  stone  to  star- 
board. She  was  a-listin'  when  we  knocked 
off  for  dinner.  Come,  lively  !  " 
14 


II 

A  BOARD  FENCE  LOSES  -A  PLANK 

THE  work  on  the  sea-wall  progressed. 
The  coffer-dam  which  had  been  built 
by  driving  into  the  mud  of  the  bottom  a 
double  row  of  heavy  tongued  and  grooved 
planking  in  two  parallel  rows,  and  bulkhead- 
ing  each  end  with  heavy  boards,  had  been 
filled  with  concrete  to  low-water  mark,  con- 
suming not  only  the  contents  of  the  delayed 
scow,  but  two  subsequent  cargoes,  both  of 
which  had  been  unloaded  by  Tom  Grogan. 

To  keep  out  the  leakage,  steam-pumps 
were  kept  going  night  and  day. 

By  dint  of  hard  work  the  upper  masonry 
of  the  wall  had  been  laid  to  the  top  course, 
ready  for  the  coping,  and  there  was  now 
every  prospect  that  the  last  stone  would  be 
lowered  into  place  before  the  winter  storms 
set  in. 

The  shanty  —  a  temporary  structure,  good 
only  for  the  life  of  the  work  —  rested  on  a 
*5 


TOM   GROGAN 

set  of  stringers  laid  on  extra  piles  driven 
outside  of  the  working-platform.  When  the 
submarine  work  lies  miles  from  shore,  a 
shanty  is  the  only  shelter  for  the  men,  its 
interior  being  arranged  with  sleeping-bunks, 
with  one  end  partitioned  off  for  a  kitchen  and 
a  storage-room.  This  last  is  filled  with  per- 
ishable property,  extra  blocks,  Manila  rope, 
portable  forges,  tools,  shovels,  and  barrows. 

For  this  present  sea-wall  —  an  amphibious 
sort  of  structure,  with  one  foot  on  land  and 
the  other  in  the  water  —  the  shanty  was  of 
light  pine  boards,  roofed  over,  and  made 
water-tight  by  tarred  paper.  The  bunks  had 
been  omitted,  for  most  of  the  men  boarded 
in  the  village.  In  this  way  increased  space 
for  the  storage  of  tools  was  gained,  besides 
room  for  a  desk  containing  the  government 
working-drawings  and  specifications,  pay-rolls, 
etc.  In  addition  to  its  door,  fastened  at  night 
with  a  padlock,  and  its  one  glass  window, 
secured  by  a  ten-penny  nail,  the  shanty  had 
a  flap-window,  hinged  at  the  bottom.  When 
this  was  propped  up  with  a  barrel  stave  it 
made  a  counter  from  which  to  pay  the  men, 
the  paymaster  standing  inside. 

Babcock  was  sitting  on  a  keg  of  dock  spikes 
16 


A  BOARD  FENCE  LOSES  A  PLANK 

inside  this  working  shanty  some  days  after 
he  had  discovered  Tom's  identity,  watching 
his  bookkeeper  preparing  the  pay-roll,  when 
a  face  was  thrust  through  the  square  of  the 
window.  It  was  not  a  prepossessing  face, 
rather  pudgy  and  sleek,  with  uncertain,  droop- 
ing mouth,  and  eyes  that  always  looked  over 
one's  head  when  he  talked.  It  was  the  prop- 
erty of  Mr.  Peter  Lathers,  the  yardmaster 
of  the  depot. 

"  When  you  're  done  payin'  off  maybe  you  '11 
step  outside,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  confiding 
tone.  "  I  got  a  friend  of  mine  who  wants  to 
know  you.  He's  a  stevedore,  and  does  the 
work  to  the  fort.  He  's  never  done  nothin' 
for  you,  but  I  told  him  next  time  you  come 
down  I  'd  fetch  him  over.  Say,  Dan ! " 
beckoning  with  his  head  over  his  shoulder ; 
then,  turning  to  Babcock,  —  "I  make  you 
acquainted,  sir,  with  Mr.  Daniel  McGavv." 

Two  faces  now  filled  the  window  —  La- 
thers's  and  that  of  a  red-headed  man  in  a 
straw  hat. 

"  All  right.    I  '11  attend  to  you  in  a  moment. 
Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  McGaw,"  said  Babcock, 
rising   from  the  keg,  and  looking  over  his 
bookkeeper's  shoulder. 
17 


TOM  GROGAN 

Lathers's  friend  proved  to  be  a  short,  big- 
boned,  square-shouldered  Irishman,  about 
forty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  once  black 
broadcloth  suit  with  frayed  buttonholes,  the 
lapels  and  vest  covered  with  grease-spots. 
Around  his  collar,  which  had  done  service  for 
several  days,  was  twisted  a  red  tie  decorated 
with  a  glass  pin.  His  face  was  spattered 
with  blue  powder-marks,  as  if  from  some 
quarry  explosion.  A  lump  of  a  mustache 
dyed  dark  brown  concealed  his  upper  lip, 
making  all  the  more  conspicuous  the  bushy, 
sandy-colored  eyebrows  that  shaded  a  pair  of 
treacherous  eyes.  His  mouth  was  coarse  and 
filled  with  teeth  half  worn  off,  like  those  of 
an  old  horse.  When  he  smiled  these  opened 
slowly  like  a  vise.  Whatever  of  humor  played 
about  this  opening  lost  its  life  instantly  when 
these  jaws  clicked  together  again. 

The  hands  were  big  and  strong,  wrinkled 
and  seamed,  their  rough  backs  spotted  like 
a  toad's,  the  wrists  covered  with  long  spidery 
hairs. 

Babcock  noticed  particularly  his  low,  flat 
forehead  when  he  removed  his  hat,  and  the 
dry,  red  hair  growing  close  to  the  eyebrows. 

11 1  wuz  a-sp'akin'  to  me  fri'nd  Mister 
18 


A    BOARD    FENCE    LOSES   A    PLANK 

Lathers  about  doin'  yer  wurruk,"  began  Mc- 
Gaw,  resting  one  foot  on  a  pile  of  barrow- 
planks,  his  elbow  on  his  knee.  "  I  does  all 
the  haulin'  to  the  foort.  Surgint  Duffy  knows 
me.  I  wuz  along  here  las'  week,  an'  see  ye 
wuz  put  back  fer  stone.  If  I  'd  had  the  job, 
I  'd  had  her  unloaded  two  days  befoore." 

"You're  dead  right,  Dan,"  said  Lathers, 
with  an  expression  of  disgust.  "  This  woman 
business  ain't  no  good,  nohow.  She  ought 
to  be  over  her  tubs." 

"  She  does  her  work,  though,"  Babcock 
said,  beginning  to  see  the  drift  of  things. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  be  sayin'  she  don't.  She  's 
a  dacint  woman,  anough  ;  but  thim  b'ys  as 
is  a-runnin'  her  carts  is  raisin'  h — 11  all  the 
toime." 

"And  then  look  at  the  teams,"  chimed  in 
Lathers,  with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  toward  the 
dock  —  "a  lot  of  staggering  horse-car  wrecks 
you  couldn't  sell  to  a  glue-factory.  That 
big  gray  she  had  a-hoistin'  is  blind  of  an  eye 
and  sprung  so  forrard  he  can't  hardly  stand." 

At  this  moment  the  refrain  of  a  song  from 
somewhere  near  the  board  fence  came  waft- 
ing through  the  air,  — 

"  And  he  wiped  up  the  floor  wid  McGeechy." 
19 


TOM   GROGAN 

McGaw  turned  his  head  in  search  of  the 
singer,  and  not  finding  him,  resumed  his  po- 
sition. 

"  What  are  your  rates  per  ton  ? "  asked 
Babcock. 

"  We  're  a-chargin'  forty  cints,"  said  Mc- 
Gaw, deferring  to  Lathers,  as  if  for  confir- 
mation. 

" Who 's'we'  ? " 

"The  Stevedores'  Union." 

"  But  Mrs.  Grogan  is  doing  it  for  thirty," 
said  Babcock,  looking  straight  into  McGaw's 
eyes,  and  speaking  slowly  and  deliberately. 

"  Yis,  I  heared  she  wuz  a-cuttin'  rates  ;  but 
she  can't  live  at  it.  If  I  does  it,  it  '11  be  done 
roight,  an'  no  throuble." 

"  I  '11  think  it  over,"  said  Babcock  quietly, 
turning  on  his  heel.  The  meanness  of  the 
whole  affair  offended  him  —  two  big,  strong 
men  vilifying  a  woman  with  no  protector  but 
her  two  hands.  McGaw  should  never  lift  a 
shovel  for  him. 

Again  the  song  floated  out  ;  this  time  it 
seemed  nearer,  — 

"...  wid  McGeechy  — 
McGeechy  of  the  Fourth." 

"  Dan  McGaw  's  giv'n  it  to  you  straight," 
20 


A   BOARD    FENCE   LOSES   A    PLANK 

said  Lathers,  stopping  for  a  last  word,  his 
face  thrust  through  the  window  again.  "  He 's 
rigged  for  this  business,  and  Grogan  ain't 
in  it  with  him.  If  she  wants  her  work  done 
right,  she  ought  to  send  down  something 
with  a  mustache." 

Here  the  song  subsided  in  a  prolonged 
chuckle.  McGaw  turned,  and  caught  sight 
of  a  boy's  head,  with  its  mop  of  black  hair 
thrust  through  a  crownless  hat,  leaning  over 
a  water  cask.  Lathers  turned,  too,  and  in- 
stantly lowered  his  voice.  The  head  ducked 
out  of  sight.  In  the  flash  glance  Babcock 
caught  of  the  face,  he  recognized  the  boy 
Cully,  Patsy's  friend,  and  the  driver  of  the 
Big  Gray.  It  was  evident  to  Babcock  that 
Cully  at  that  moment  was  bubbling  over  with 
fun.  Indeed,  this  waif  of  the  streets,  some- 
times called  James  Finnegan,  was  seldom 
known  to  be  otherwise. 

"  Thet  's  the  wurrst  rat  in  the  stables/' 
said  McGaw,  his  face  reddening  with  anger. 
"  What  kin  ye  do  whin  ye  're  a-buckin' 
ag'in' a  lot  uv  divils  loike  him?" — speak- 
ing through  the  window  to  Babcock.  "  Come 
out  uv  thet,"  he  called  to  Cully,  "  or  I  '11 
bu'st  yer  jaw,  ye  sneakin'  rat !  " 

21 


TOM   GROGAN 

Cully  came  out,  but  not  in  obedience  to 
McGaw  or  Lathers.  Indeed,  he  paid  no  more 
attention  to  either  of  those  distinguished 
diplomats  than  if  they  had  been  two  cement- 
barrels  standing  on  end.  His  face,  too,  had 
lost  its  irradiating  smile ;  not  a  wrinkle  or  a 
pucker  ruffled  its  calm  surface.  His  clay- 
soiled  hat  was  in  his  hand  —  a  very  dirty 
hand,  by  the  way,  with  the  torn  cuff  of  his 
shirt  hanging  loosely  over  it.  His  trousers 
bagged  everywhere  —  at  knees,  seat,  and 
waist.  On  his  stockingless  feet  were  a  pair 
of  sun-baked,  brick-colored  shoes.  His  ankles 
were  as  dark  as  mahogany.  His  throat  and 
chest  were  bare,  the  skin  tanned  to  leather 
wherever  the  sun  could  work  its  way  through 
the  holes  in  his  garments.  From  out  of  this 
combination  of  dust  and  rags  shone  a  pair 
of  piercing  black  eyes,  snapping  with  fun. 

"  I  come  up  fer  de  mont's  pay,"  he  said 
coolly  to  Babcock,  the  corner  of  his  eye 
glued  to  Lathers.  "  De  ole  woman  said  ye  'd 
hev  it  ready." 

"  Mrs.  Grogan's  ?  "  asked  the  bookkeeper, 
shuffling  over  his  envelopes. 

"Yep.     Tom  Grogan." 

"  Can  you  sign  the  pay-roll  ? " 
22 


A   BOARD   FENCE   LOSES   A   PLANK 

"  You  bet "  —  with  an  eye  still  out  for 
Lathers. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  write  —  at 
school  ?  "  asked  Babcock,  noting  the  boy's 
independence  with  undisguised  pleasure. 

"  Naw.  Patsy  an'  me  studies  nights.  Pop 
Mullins  teaches  us  —  he  's  de  ole  woman's 
farder  what  she  brung  out  from  Ireland. 
He  's  a-livin'  up  ter  de  shebang ;  dey  're  all 
a-livin'  dere  —  Jinnie  an'  de  ole  woman  an' 
Patsy  —  all  'cept  me  an'  Carl.  I  bunks  in 
wid  de  Big  Gray.  Say,  mister,  ye  'd  oughter 
git  onter  Patsy  —  he  's  de  little  kid  wid  de 
crutch.  He  's  a  corker,  he  is  ;  reads  po'try 
an'  everythin'.  Where  '11  I  sign  ?  Oh,  I 
see ;  in  dis  'ere  square  hole  right  along- 
side de  ole  woman's  name  "  —  spreading  his 
elbows,  pen  in  hand,  and  affixing  "  James 
Finnegan"  to  the  collection  of  autographs. 
The  next  moment  he  was  running  along  the 
dock,  the  money  envelope  tight  in  his  hand, 
sticking  out  his  tongue  at  McGaw,  and  call- 
ing to  Lathers  as  he  disappeared  through 
the  door  in  the  fence,  "  Somp'n  wid  a  rmis- 
tache,  somp'n  wid  a  mustache,"  like  a  news- 
boy calling  an  extra.  Then  a  stone  grazed 
Lathers's  ear. 

23 


TOM   GROGAN 

Lathers  sprang  through  the  gate,  but  the 
boy  was  half  way  through  the  yard.  It  was 
this  flea-like  alertness  that  always  saved  Mr. 
Finnegan's  scalp. 

Once  out  of  Lathers's  reach,  Cully  bounded 
up  the  road  like  a  careering  letter  X,  with 
arms  and  legs  in  air.  If  there  was  any  one 
thing  that  delighted  the  boy's  soul,  it  was,  to 
quote  from  his  own  picturesque  vocabulary, 
"to  set  up  a  job  on  de  ole  woman."  Here 
was  his  chance.  Before  he  reached  the  stable 
he  had  planned  the  whole  scene,  even  to  the 
exact  intonation  of  Lathers's  voice  when  he 
referred  to  the  dearth  of  mustaches  in  the 
Grogan  household.  Within  a  few  minutes 
of  his  arrival  the  details  of  the  whole  occur- 
rence, word  for  word,  with  such  picturesque 
additions  as  his  own  fertile  imagination  could 
invent,  were  common  talk  about  the  yard. 

Lathers  meanwhile  had  been  called  upon 
to  direct  a  gang  of  laborers  who  were  mov- 
ing an  enormous  iron  buoy-float  down  the 
cinder-covered  path  to  the  dock.  Two  of 
the  men  walked  beside  the  buoy,  steadying 
it  with  their  hands.  Lathers  was  leaning 
against  the  board  fence  of  the  shop  whittling 
a  stick,  while  the  others  worked. 
24 


A  BOARD  FENCE  LOSES  A  PLANK 

Suddenly  there  was  an  angry  cry  for  La- 
thers, and  every  man  stood  still.  So  did  the 
buoy  and  the  moving  truck. 

With  head  up,  eyes  blazing,  her  silk  hood 
pushed  back  from  her  face,  as  if  to  give  her 
air,  her  gray  ulster  open  to  her  waist,  her 
right  hand  bare  of  a  glove,  came  Tom  Gro- 
gan,  brushing  the  men  out  of  her  way. 

"I  knew  I'd  find  you,  Pete  Lathers,"  she 
said,  facing  him  squarely ;  "  why  do  ye  want 
to  be  takin'  the  bread  out  of  me  children's 
mouths?" 

The  stick  dropped  from  Lathers's  hand  : 
"  Well,  who  said  I  did  ?  What  have  I  got  to 
do  with  your  "  — 

"  You  've  got  enough  to  do  with  'em,  you 
and  your  friend  McGaw,  to  want  'em  to  starve. 
Have  I  ever  hurt  ye  that  ye  should  try  an' 
sneak  me  business  away  from  me  ?  Ye  know 
very  well  the  fight  I  've  made,  standin'  out 
on  this  dock,  many  a  day  an'  night,  in  the 
cold  an'  wet,  with  nothin'  between  Tom's 
children  an'  the  street  but  these  two  hands  — 
an'  yet  ye  'd  slink  in  like  a  dog  to  get  me  "  — 

"Here,  now,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  have  no 
row,"  said  Lathers,  twitching  his  shoulders. 
"  It 's  against  orders,  an'  I  '11  call  the  yard- 

25 


TOM   GROGAN 

watch,  and  throw  you  out  if  you  make  any 
fuss." 

"The  yard-watch  !  "  said  Tom,  with  a  look 
of  supreme  contempt.  "  I  can  handle  any 
two  of  'em,  an'  ye  too,  an'  ye  know  it."  Her 
cheeks  were  aflame.  She  crowded  Lathers 
so  closely  his  slinking  figure  hugged  the 
fence. 

By  this  time  the  gang  had  abandoned  the 
buoy,  and  were  standing  aghast,  watching  the 
fury  of  the  Amazon. 

"  Now,  see  here,  don't  make  a  muss  ;  the 
commandant  '11  be  down  here  in  a  minute." 

"  Let  him  come ;  he  's  the  one  I  want  to 
see.  If  he  knew  he  had  a  man  in  his  pay 
that  would  do  as  dirty  a  trick  to  a  woman  as 
ye  've  done  to  me,  his  name  would  be  Dinnis. 
I  '11  see  him  meself  this  very  day,  and  " — 

Here  Lathers  interrupted  with  an  angry 
gesture. 

"  Don't  ye  lift  yer  arm  at  me,"  she  blazed 
out,  "  or  I  '11  break  it  at  the  wrist !  " 

Lathers's  hand  dropped.  All  the  color  was 
out  of  his  face,  his  lip  quivering. 

"  Whoever  said  I  said  a  word  against  you, 

Mrs.  Grogan,  is  a liar."     It  was  the  last 

resort  of  a  cowardly  nature. 
26 


A  BOARD  FENCE  LOSES  A  PLANK 

"  Stop  lyin'  to  me,  Pete  Lathers !  If 
there  's  anythin'  in  this  world  I  hate,  it 's  a 
liar.  *  Ye  said  it,  and  ye  know  ye  said  it. 
Ye  want  that  drunken  loafer  Dan  McGaw  to 
get  me  work.  Ye  've  been  at  it  all  summer, 
an'  ye  think  I  have  n't  watched  ye  ;  but  I 
have.  And  ye  say  I  don't  pay  full  wages, 
and  have  got  a  lot  of  boys  to  do  men's  work, 
an'  oughter  be  over  me  tubs.  Now  let  me 
tell  ye"  —  Lathers  shrank  back,  cowering 
before  her  —  "  if  ever  I  hear  ye  openin'  yer 
head  about  me,  or  me  teams,  or  me  work, 
I  '11  make  ye  swallow  every  tooth  in  yer  head. 
Send  down  somethin'  with  a  mustache,  will 
I  ?  There  's  not  a  man  in  the  yard  that  's  a 
match  for  me,  an'  ye  know  it.  Let  one  of 
'em  try  that." 

Her  uplifted  fist,  tight-clenched,  shot  past 
Lathers' s  ear.  A  quick  blow,  a  plank  knocked 
clear  of  its  fastenings,  and  a  flood  of  daylight 
broke  in  behind  Lathers's  head  ! 

"Now,  the  next  time  I  come,  Pete  La- 
thers," she  said  firmly,  "  I  '11  miss  the  plank 
and  take  yer  face." 

Then  she  turned,  and  stalked  out  of  the 
yard. 

27 


Ill 

SERGEANT    DUFFY'S    LITTLE    GAME 

THE  bad  weather  so  long  expected  finally 
arrived.  An  afternoon  of  soft,  warm 
autumn  skies,  aglow  with  the  radiance  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  brilliant  in  violet  and  gold, 
had  been  followed  by  a  cold,  gray  morning. 
Of  a  sudden  a  cloud  the  size  of  a  hand  had 
mounted  clear  of  the  horizon,  and  called  to- 
gether its  fellows.  An  unseen  herald  in  the 
east  blew  a  blast,  and  winds  and  sea  awoke. 

By  nine  o'clock  a  gale  was  blowing.  By 
ten  Babcock's  men  were  bracing  the  outer 
sheathing  of  the  coffer-dam,  strengthening 
the  derrick  -  guys,  tightening  the  anchor- 
lines,  and  clearing  the  working-platforms  of 
sand,  cement,  and  other  damageable  prop- 
erty. The  course-masonry,  fortunately,  was 
above  the  water-line,  but  the  coping  was  still 
unset  and  the  rubble  backing  of  much  of 
the  wall  unfinished.  Two  weeks  of  constant 
work  were  necessary  before  that  part  of  the 
28 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S    LITTLE  GAME 

structure  contained  in  the  first  section  of  the 
contract  would  be  entirely  safe  for  the  coming 
winter.  Babcock  doubled  his  gangs,  and 
utilized  every  hour  of  low  water  to  the  utmost, 
even  when  the  men  stood  waist-deep.  It 
was  his  only  hope  for  completing  the  first 
section  that  season.  After  that  would  come 
the  cold,  freezing  the  mortar,  and  ending 
everything. 

Tom  Grogan  performed  wonders.  Not  only 
did  she  work  her  teams  far  into  the  night, 
but  during  all  this  bad  weather  she  stood 
throughout  the  day  on  the  unprotected  dock, 
a  man's  sou'wester  covering  her  head,  a  rub- 
ber waterproof  reaching  to  her  feet.  She 
directed  every  boat-load  herself,  and  rushed 
the  materials  to  the  shovelers,  who  stood 
soaking  wet  in  the  driving  rain. 

Lathers  avoided  her ;  so  did  McGaw. 
Everybody  else  watched  her  in  admiration. 
Even  the  commandant,  a  bluff,  gray-bearded 
naval  officer,  —  a  hero  of  Hampton  Roads 
and  Memphis,  —  passed  her  on  his  morning 
inspection  with  a  kindly  look  in  his  face  and 
an  aside  to  Babcock  :  "  Hire  some  more  like 
her.     She  is  worth  a  dozen  men." 

Not  until  the  final  cargo  required  for  the 
29 


TOM   GROGAN 

completion  of  the  wall  had  been  dumped  on 
the  platforms  did  she  relax  her  vigilance. 
Then  she  shook  the  water  from  her  oilskins 
and  started  for  home.  During  all  these  hours 
of  constant  strain  there  was  no  outbreak  of 
bravado,  no  spell  of  ill  humor.  She  made  no 
boasts  or  promises.  With  a  certain  buoyant 
pluck  she  stood  by  the  derricks  day  after  day, 
firing  volleys  of  criticism  or  encouragement, 
as  best  suited  the  exigencies  of  the  moment, 
now  she  sprang  forward  to  catch  a  sagging 
bucket,  now  tended  a  guy  to  relieve  a  man, 
or  handled  the  teams  herself  when  the  line 
of  carts  was  blocked  or  stalled. 

Every  hour  she  worked  increased  Bab- 
cock's  confidence  and  admiration.  He  began 
to  feel  a  certain  pride  in  her,  and  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  to  rely  upon  her.  Such  capacity, 
endurance,  and  loyalty  were  new  in  his  experi- 
ence. If  she  owed  him  anything  for  her  delay 
on  that  first  cargo,  the  debt  had  been  amply 
paid.  Yet  he  saw  that  no  such  sense  of  ob- 
ligation had  influenced  her.  To  her  this 
extra  work  had  been  a  duty  :  he  was  behind- 
hand with  the  wall,  and  anxious  ;  she  would 
help  him  out.  As  to  the  weather,  she  reveled 
in  it.  The  dash  of  the  spray  and  the  driving 
3° 


SERGEANT  DUFFY'S  LITTLE   GAME 

rain  only  added  to  her  enjoyment.  The 
clatter  of  rattling  buckets  and  the  rhythmic 
movement  of  the  shovelers  keeping  time  to 
her  orders  made  a  music  as  dear  to  her  as 
that  of  the  steady  tramp  of  men  and  the 
sound  of  arms  to  a  division  commander. 

Owing  to  the  continued  bad  weather  and 
the  difficulty  of  shipping  small  quantities  of 
fuel,  the  pumping-engines  ran  out  of  coal,  and 
a  complaint  from  Babcock's  office  brought 
the  agent  of  the  coal  company  to  the  sea- 
wall. In  times  like  these  Babcock  rarely 
left  his  work.  Once  let  the  Old  Man  of  the 
Sea,  as  he  knew,  get  his  finger  in  between 
the  cracks  of  a  coffer-dam,  and  he  would 
smash  the  whole  into  wreckage. 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  see  Tom  Grogan," 
said  the  agent.  "  I  heard  you  were  here,  so 
I  stopped  to  tell  you  about  the  coal.  There 
will  be  a  load  down  in  the  morning.  I  am 
Mr.  Crane,  of  Crane  &  Co.,  coal-dealers." 

"  You  know  Mrs.  Grogan,  then  ? "  asked 
Babcock,  after  the  delay  in  the  delivery  of 
the  coal  had  been  explained.  He  had  been 
waiting  for  some  such  opportunity  to  dis- 
cover more  about  his  stevedore.  He  never 
discussed  personalities  with  his  men. 
31 


TOM   GROGAN 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so  —  known  her  for 
years.  Best  woman  on  top  of  Staten  Island. 
Does  she  work  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  has  for  some  years ;  but  I  must 
confess  I  never  knew  Grogan  was  a  woman 
until  I  found  her  on  the  dock  a  few  weeks 
ago,  handling  a  cargo.  She  works  like  a 
machine.   How  long  has  she  been  a  widow  ?" 

u  Well,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  don't  know 
that  she  is  a  widow.  There  's  some  mystery 
about  the  old  man,  but  I  never  knew  what. 
But  that  don't  count ;  she  's  good  enough  as 
she  is,  and  a  hustler,  too." 

Crane  was  something  of  a  hustler  himself 
—  one  of  those  busy  Americans  who  opens 
his  daily  life  with  an  office-key  and  closes  it 
with  a  letter  for  the  late  mail.  He  was  a 
restless,  wiry,  black-eyed  little  man,  never 
still  for  a  moment,  and  perpetually  in  chase 
of  another  eluding  dollar,  —  which  half  the 
time  he  caught. 

Then,  laying  his  hand  on  Babcock's  arm  : 
"And  she's  square  as  a  brick,  too.  Some- 
times when  a  chunker  captain,  waiting  to 
unload,  shoves  a  few  tons  aboard  a  sneak- 
boat  at  night,  Tom  will  spot  him  every  time. 
They  try  to  fool  her  into  indorsing  their 
32 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S    LITTLE   GAME 

bills  of  lading  in  full,  but  it  don't  work  for  a 
cent." 

"You  call  her  Tom  Grogan  ? "  Babcock 
asked,  with  a  certain  tone  in  his  voice.  He 
resented,  somehow,  Crane's  familiarity. 

"  Certainly.  Everybody  calls  her  Tom 
Grogan.  It 's  her  husband's  name.  Call  her 
anything  else,  and  she  don't  answer.  She 
seems  to  glory  in  it,  and  after  you  know  her 
a  while  you  don't  want  to  call  her  anything 
else  yourself.  It  comes  kind  of  natural  — 
like  your  calling  a  man  '  colonel '  or  '  judge/  " 

Babcock  could  not  but  admit  that  Crane 
might  be  right.  All  the  names  which  could 
apply  to  a  woman  who  had  been  sweetheart, 
wife,  and  mother  seemed  out  of  place  when 
he  thought  of  this  undaunted  spirit  who  had 
defied  Lathers,  and  with  one  blow  of  her  fist 
sent  the  splinters  of  a  fence  flying  about  his 
head. 

"  We  've  got  the  year's  contract  for  coal  at 
the  fort,"  continued  Crane.  "  The  quarter- 
master-sergeant who  inspects  it  —  Sergeant 
Duffy  —  has  a  friend  named  McGaw  who 
wants  to  do  the  unloading  into  the  govern- 
ment bins.  There  's  a  low  price  on  the  coal, 
and  there  's  no  margin  for  anybody ;  and  if 
33 


TOM   GROGAN 

Duffy  should  kick  about  the  quality  of  the 
coal,  —  and  you  can't  please  these  fellows  if 
they  want  to  be  ugly,  —  Crane  &  Co.  will  be 
in  a  hole,  and  lose  money  on  the  contract.  I 
hate  to  go  back  on  Tom  Grogan,  but  there  's 
no  help  for  it.  The  ten  cents  a  ton  I  *d  save 
if  she  hauls  the  coal  instead  of  McGaw 
would  be  eaten  up  in  Duffy's  short  weights 
and  rejections.  I  sent  Sergeant  Duffy's  letter 
to  her,  so  she  can  tell  how  the  land  lies,  and 
I  'm  going  up  now  to  her  house  to  see  her, 
on  my  way  to  the  fort.  I  don't  know  what 
Duffy  will  get  out  of  it ;  perhaps  he  gets  a 
few  dollars  out  of  the  hauling.  The  coal  is 
shipped,  by  the  way,  and  ought  to  be  here 
any  minute." 

"Wait;  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Babcock, 
handing  him  an  order  for  more  coal.  "  She 
has  n't  sent  down  the  tally-sheet  for  my  last 
scow."  There  was  not  the  slightest  neces- 
sity, of  course,  for  Babcock  to  go  to  Grogan's 
house  for  this  document. 

As  they  walked  on,  Crane  talked  of  every- 
thing except  what  was  uppermost  in  Bab- 
cock's  mind.  Babcock  tried  to  lead  the  con- 
versation back  to  Tom,  but  Crane's  thoughts 
were  on  something  else. 
34 


SERGEANT  DUFFY'S  LITTLE  GAME 

When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  the 
noble  harbor  lay  spread  out  beneath  them, 
from  the  purple  line  of  the  great  cities  to  the 
silver  sheen  of  the  sea  inside  the  narrows. 
The  clearing  wind  had  hauled  to  the  north- 
west. The  sky  was  heaped  with  soft  clouds 
floating  in  the  blue.  At  the  base  of  the  hill 
nestled  the  buildings  and  wharves  of  the 
Lighthouse  Depot,  with  the  unfinished  sea- 
wall running  out  from  the  shore,  fringed  with 
platforms  and  bristling  with  swinging  booms 
—  the  rings  of  white  steam  twirling  from  the 
exhaust-pipes. 

On  either  side  of  the  vast  basin  lay  two 
grim,  silent  forts,  crouched  on  grassy  slopes 
like  great  beasts  with  claws  concealed.  Near 
by,  big  lazy  steamers,  sullen  and  dull,  rested 
motionless  at  Quarantine,  awaiting  inspec- 
tion ;  while  beyond,  white-winged  graceful 
yachts  curved  tufts  of  foam  from  their  bows. 
In  the  open,  elevators  rose  high  as  church 
steeples ;  long  lines  of  canal-boats  stretched 
themselves  out  like  huge  water-snakes,  with 
hissing  tugs  for  heads  ;  enormous  floats 
groaned  under  whole  trains  of  cars ;  big, 
burly  lighters  drifted  slowly  with  widespread 
oil-stained  sails  ;  monster  derricks  towered 
35 


TOM   GROGAN 

aloft,  derricks  that  pick  up  a  hundred-ton  gun 
as  easily  as  an  ant  does  a  grain  of  sand  — 
each  floating  craft  made  necessary  by  some 
special  industry  peculiar  to  the  port  of  New 
York,  and  each  unlike  any  other  craft  in  the 
harbor  of  any  other  city  of  the  world. 

Grogan's  house  and  stables  lay  just  over 
the  brow  of  this  hill,  in  a  little  hollow.  The 
house  was  a  plain,  square  frame  dwelling, 
with  front  and  rear  verandas,  protected  by 
the  arching  branches  of  a  big  sycamore-tree, 
and  surrounded  by  a  small  garden  filled  with 
flaming  dahlias  and  chrysanthemums.  Every- 
thing about  the  place  was  scrupulously  neat 
and  clean. 

The  stables  —  there  were  two  —  stood  on 
the  lower  end  of  the  lot.  They  looked  new, 
or  were  newly  painted  in  a  dark  red,  and 
appeared  to  have  accommodations  for  a  num- 
ber of  horses.  The  stable-yard  lay  below  the 
house.  In  its  open  square  were  a  pump  and 
a  horse-trough,  at  which  two  horses  were 
drinking.  One,  the  Big  Gray,  had  his  collar 
off,  showing  where  the  sweat  had  discolored 
the  skin,  the  traces  crossed  loosely  over  his 
back.  He  was  drinking  eagerly,  and  had 
evidently  just  come  in  from  work.  About, 
36 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S  LITTLE  GAME 

under  the  sheds,  were  dirt-carts  tilted  for- 
ward on  their  shafts,  and  dust-begrimed  har- 
nesses hanging  on  wooden  pegs. 

A  strapping  young  fellow  in  a  red  shirt 
came  out  of  the  stable  door  leading  two  other 
horses  to  the  trough.  Babcock  looked  about 
him  in  surprise  at  the  extent  of  the  estab- 
lishment. He  had  supposed  that  his  steve- 
dore had  a  small  outfit  and  needed  all  the 
work  she  could  get.  If,  as  McGaw  had  said, 
only  boys  did  Grogan's  work,  they  at  least 
did  it  well. 

Crane  mounted  the  porch  first  and  knocked. 
Babcock  followed. 

"  No,  Mr.  Crane,"  said  a  young  girl,  open- 
ing the  door,  "  she  's  not  at  home.  I  'm  ex- 
pecting her  every  minute.  Mother  went  to 
work  early  this  morning.  She  '11  be  sorry 
to  miss  you,  sir.  She  ought  to  be  home 
now,  for  she  's  been  up  'most  all  night  at  the 
fort.  She  's  just  sent  Carl  up  for  two  more 
horses.     Won't  you  come  in  and  wait  ?" 

"  No ;  I'll  keep  on  to  the  fort,"  answered 
Crane.     "  I  may  meet  her  on  the  road." 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  Babcock  asked,  explain- 
ing his  business  in  a  few  words. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir.  Mother  won't  be  long  now. 
37 


TOM   GROGAN 

You  've  not  forgotten  me,  Mr.  Babcock  ? 
I  'm  her  daughter  Jennie.  I  was  to  your 
office  once.  Gran'pop,  this  is  the  gentleman 
mother  works  for." 

An  old  man  rose  with  some  difficulty  from 
an  armchair,  and  bowed  in  a  kindly,  defer- 
ential way.  He  had  been  reading  near  the 
window.  He  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  his  col- 
lar open  at  the  throat.  He  seemed  rather 
feeble.  His  legs  shook  as  if  he  were  weak 
from  some  recent  illness.  About  the  eyes 
was  a  certain  kindliness  that  did  not  escape 
Babcock's  quick  glance  ;  they  were  clear  and 
honest,  and  looked  straight  into  his  —  the 
kind  he  liked.  The  old  man's  most  strik- 
ing features  were  his  silver-white  hair,  parted 
over  his  forehead  and  falling  to  his  shoul- 
ders, and  his  thin,  straight,  transparent  nose, 
indicating  both  ill  health  and  a  certain  re- 
finement and  sensitiveness  of  nature.  Had 
it  not  been  for  his  dress,  he  might  have 
passed  for  an  English  curate  on  half  pay. 

"  Me  name  's  Richard,  sor  —  Richard  Mul- 
lins,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  'm  Mary's  father. 
She  won't  be  long  gone  now.  She  promised 
me  she  'd  be  home  for  dinner."  He  placed  a 
chair  for  Babcock,  and  remained  standing. 
38 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S   LITTLE  GAME 

"I  will  wait  until  she  returns,"  said  Bab- 
cock.  He  had  come  to  discover  something 
more  definite  about  this  woman  who  worked 
like  a  steam-engine,  crooned  over  a  cripple, 
and  broke  a  plank  with  her  fist,  and  he  did 
not  intend  to  leave  until  he  knew.  "  Your 
daughter  must  have  had  great  experience. 
I  have  never  seen  any  one  man  handle  work 
better,"  he  continued,  extending  his  hand. 
Then,  noticing  that  Mullins  was  still  stand- 
ing, "  Don't  let  me  take  your  seat." 

Mullins  hesitated,  glanced  at  Jennie,  and, 
moving  another  chair  from  the  window,  drew 
it  nearer,  and  settled  slowly  beside  Babcock. 

The  room  was  as  clean  as  bare  arms  and 
scrubbing-brushes  could  make  it.  Near  the 
fireplace  was  a  cast-iron  stove,  and  opposite 
this  stood  a  parlor  organ,  its  top  littered  with 
photographs.  A  few  chromos  hung  on  the 
walls.  There  were  also  a  big  plush  sofa  and 
two  haircloth  rocking-chairs,  of  walnut,  cov- 
ered with  cotton  tidies.  The  carpet  on  the 
floor  was  new,  and  in  the  window,  where  the 
old  man  had  been  sitting,  some  pots  of  nas- 
turtiums were  blooming,  their  tendrils  reach- 
ing up  both  sides  of  the  sash.  Opening 
from  this  room  was  the  kitchen,  resplendent 
39 


TOM   GROGAN 

in  bright  pans  and  a  shining  copper  wash- 
boiler.  The  girl  passed  constantly  in  and 
out  the  open  door,  spreading  the  cloth  and 
bringing  dishes  for  the  table. 

Her  girlish  figure  was  clothed  in  a  blue 
calico  frock  and  white  apron,  the  sleeves 
rolled  up  to  the  elbows,  showing  some  faint 
traces  of  flour  clinging  to  her  wrists,  as  if 
she  had  been  suddenly  summoned  from  the 
bread-bowl.  She  was  fresh  and  sweet,  strong 
and  healthy,  with  a  certain  grace  of  manner 
about  her  that  pleased  Babcock  instantly. 
He  saw  now  that  she  had  her  mother's  eyes 
and  color,  but  not  her  air  of  fearlessness 
and  self-reliance  —  that  kind  of  self-reliance 
which  comes  only  of  many  nights  of  anxiety 
and  many  days  of  success.  He  noticed,  too, 
that  when  she  spoke  to  the  old  man  her 
voice  was  tempered  with  a  peculiar  tender- 
ness, as  if  his  infirmities  were  more  to  be 
pitied  than  complained  of.  This  pleased  him 
most  of  all. 

"You  live  with  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Gro- 
gan  ? "  Babcock  asked  in  a  friendly  way,  turn 
ing  to  the  old  man. 

"Yis,  sor.  Whin  Tom  got  sick,  she  sint 
fer  me  to  come  over  an'  hilp  her.  I  feeds 
40 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S   LITTLE   GAME 

the  horses  whin  Oi  'm  able,  an'  looks  after 
the  garden,  but  Oi  'm  not  much  good." 

"  Is  Mr.  Thomas  Grogan  living  ? "  asked 
Babcock  cautiously,  and  with  a  certain  tone 
of  respect,  hoping  to  get  closer  to  the  facts, 
and  yet  not  to  seem  intrusive. 

"  Oh,  yis,  sor :  an'  moight  be  dead  fer  all 
the  good  he  does.  He's  in  New  Yorruk 
some'er's,  on  a  farm"  —  lowering  his  voice 
to  a  whisper  and  looking  anxiously  toward 
Jennie — "belonghV  to  the  State,  I  think, 
sor.  •  He 's  hurted  pretty  bad,  an'  p'haps  he 's 
a  leetle  off  —  I  dunno.  Mary  has  niver  tould 
me." 

Before  Babcock  could  pursue  the  inquiry 
further  there  was  a  firm  tread  on  the  porch 
steps,  and  the  old  man  rose  from  the  chair, 
his  face  brightening. 

"  Here  she  is,  Gran'pop,"  said  Jennie,  lay- 
ing down  her  dish  and  springing  to  the 
door. 

"  Hold  tight,  darlint,"  came  a  voice  from 
the  outside,  and  the  next  instant  Tom  Grogan 
strode  in,  her  face  aglow  with  laughter,  her 
hood  awry,  her  eyes  beaming.  Patsy  was 
perched  on  her  shoulder,  his  little  crutch  fast 
in  one  hand,  the  other  tightly  wound  about 
4i 


TOM   GROGAN 

her  neck.  "  Let  go,  darlint ;  ye  're  a-chokin' 
the  wind  out  of  me. 

"Oh,  it's  ye  a-waitin',  Mr.  Babcock  —  me 
man  Carl  thought  ye  'd  gone.  Mr.  Crane  I 
met  outside  told  me  you'd  been  here.  Jen- 
nie '11  get  the  tally-sheet  of  the  last  load  for 
ye.  I  've  been  to  the  fort  since  daylight, 
and  pretty  much  all  night,  to  tell  ye  God's 
truth.  Oh,  Gran'pop,  but  I  smashed  'em  !  " 
she  exclaimed  as  she  gently  removed  Patsy's 
arm  and  laid  him  in  the  old  man's  lap.  She 
had  picked  the  little  cripple  up  at  the  gar- 
den gate,  where  he  always  waited  for  her. 
"That 's  the  last  job  that  sneakin'  Duffy  and 
Dan  McGaw  '11  ever  put  up  on  me.  Oh,  but 
ye  should  'a'  minded  the  face  on  him,  Gran'- 
pop !  "  —  untying  her  hood  and  breaking  into 
a  laugh  so  contagious  in  its  mirth  that  even 
Babcock  joined  in  without  knowing  what  it 
was  all  about. 

As  she  spoke,  Tom  stood  facing  her  father, 
hood  and  ulster  off,  the  light  of  the  windows 
silhouetting  the  splendid  lines  of  her  well- 
rounded  figure,  with  its  deep  chest,  firm  bust, 
broad  back,  and  full  throat,  her  arms  swing- 
ing loose  and  free. 

"Ye  see,"  she  said,  turning  to  Babcock, 
42 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S   LITTLE   GAME. 

"that  man  Duffy  tried  to  do  me,  — he's  the 
sergeant  at  the  fort  —  and  Dan  McGaw  —  ye 
know  him  —  he's  the  divil  that  wanted  to 
work  for  ye.  Ye  know  I  always  had  the 
hauling  of  the  coal  at  the  fort,  an'  I  want  to 
hold  on  to  it,  for  it  comes  every  year.  I  've 
been  a-watchin'  for  this  coal  for  a  month. 
Every  October  there  's  a  new  contractor,  and 
this  time  it  was  me  friend  Mr.  Crane  I  've 
worked  for  before.  So  I  sees  Duffy  about  it 
the  other  day,  an'  he  says,  '  Well,  I  think  ye 
better  talk  to  the  quartermaster,  who  's  away, 
but  who  '11  be  home  next  week.'  An'  that 
night  when  I  got  home,  there  lay  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Crane,  wid  another  letter  inside 
it  Sergeant  Duffy  had  sent  to  Mr.  Crane, 
sayin'  he'd  recommend  Dan  McGaw  to  do 
the  stevedorin'  —  the  sneakin'  villain  —  an' 
sayin'  that  he  —  Duffy  —  was  a-goin'  to  in- 
spect the  coal  himself,  an'  if  his  friend  Dan 
McGaw  hauled  it,  the  quality  would  be  all 
right.  Think  of  that !  I  tell  ye,  Mr.  Bab- 
cock,  they're  divils.  Then  Mr.  Crane  put 
down  at  the  bottom  of  his  letter  to  me  that 
he  was  sorry  not  to  give  me  the  job,  but  that 
he  must  give  it  to  Duffy's  friend  McGaw,  or 
Duffy  might  reject  the  coal.  Wait  till  I  wash 
43 


TOM   GROGAN 

me  hands  and  I  '11  tell  ye  how  I  fixed  him," 
she  added  suddenly,  as  with  a  glance  at  her 
fingers  she  disappeared  into  the  kitchen,  re- 
appearing a  moment  later  with  her  bare  arms 
as  fresh  and  as  rosy  as  her  cheeks,  from  their 
friction  with  a  clean  crash  towel. 

"Well!"  she  continued,  "I  jumps  into 
me  bonnet  yisterday,  and  over  I  goes  to  the 
fort ;  an'  I  up  an'  says  to  Duffy,  '  I  can't  wait 
for  the  quartermaster.  When  's  that  coal 
a-comin'?'  An'  he  says,  'In  a  couple  of 
weeks.'  An'  I  turned  onto  him  and  says : 
*  Ye  're  a  pretty  loafer  to  take  the  bread  out 
of  Tom  Grogan's  children's  mouths  !  An'  ye 
want  Dan  McGaw  to  do  the  haulin',  do  ye  ? 
An'  the  quality  of  the  coal  '11  be  all  right  if 
he  gits  it  ?  An'  there  's  sure  to  be  twenty- 
five  dollars  for  ye,  won't  there  ?  If  I  hear  a 
word  more  out  of  ye  I  '11  see  Colonel  Howard 
sure,  an'  hand  him  this  letter.'  An'  Duffy 
turned  white  as  a  load  of  lime,  and  says, 
6  Don't  do  it,  for  God's  sake  !  It  '11  cost  me 
m'  place.'  While  I  was  a-talkin'  I  see  a 
chunker-boat  with  the  very  coal  on  it  round 
into  the  dock  with  a  tug ;  an'  I  ran  to  the 
string-piece  and  catched  the  line,  and  has 
her  fast  to  a  spile  before  the  tug  lost  head- 
44 


.srfvv 


Til  .  .  .  hand  him  this  letter" 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S   LITTLE   GAME 

way.  Then  I  started  for  home  on  the  run,  to 
get  me  derricks  and  stuff.  I  got  home,  hooked 
up  by  twelve  o'clock  last  night,  an'  before 
daylight  I  had  me  rig  up  an'  the  fall  set  and 
the  buckets  over  her  hatches.  At  six  o'clock 
this  mornin'  I  took  the  teams  and  was  a-run- 
nin'  the  coal  out  of  the  chunker,  when  down 
comes  Mr.  —  Daniel  —  McGaw  with  a  gang 
and  his  big  derrick  on  a  cart."  She  repeated 
this  in  a  mocking  tone,  swinging  her  big 
shoulders  exactly  as  her  rival  would  have  done. 
"' That's  me  rig/  I  says  to  him,  p'intin' 
up  to  the  gaff,  '  an'  me  coal,  an'  I  '11  throw 
the  fust  man  overboard  who  lays  hands  on 
it ! '  An'  then  the  sergeant  come  out  and 
took  McGaw  one  side  an'  said  somethin'  to 
him,  with  his  back  to  me  ;  an'  when  McGaw 
turned  he  was  white  too,  an'  without  sayin' 
a  •  word  he  turned  the  team  and  druv  off. 
An'  just  now  I  met  Mr.  Crane  walkin'  down, 
lookin'  like  he  had  lost  a  horse.  '  Tom  Gro- 
gan,'  he  says,  '  I  hate  to  disappoint  ye,  an' 
would  n't,  for  ye  've  always  done  me  work 
well ;  but  I  'm  stuck  on  the  coal  contract, 
an'  the  sergeant  can  put  me  in  a  hole  if  ye 
do  the  haulin'.'  An'  I  says,  '  Brace  up,  Mr. 
Crane,  there  's  a  hole,  but  ye  ain't  in  it,  an* 
45 


TOM   GROGAN 

the  sergeant  is.  I  '11  unload  every  pound  of 
that  coal,  if  I  do  it  for  nothin',  and  if  that 
sneak  in  striped  trousers  bothers  me  or  you, 
I  '11  pull  him  apart  an'  stamp  on  him  ! '  " 

Through  all  her  talk  there  was  a  triumph- 
ant good  humor,  a  joyousness,  a  glow  and 
breeziness,  which  completely  fascinated  Bab- 
cock.  Although  she  had  been  up  half  the 
night,  she  was  as  sweet  and  fresh  and  rosy 
as  a  child.  Her  vitality,  her  strength,  her 
indomitable  energy,  impressed  him  as  no 
woman's  had  ever  done  before. 

When  she  had  finished  her  story  she  sud- 
denly caught  Patsy  out  of  her  father's  arms 
and  dropped  with  him  into  a  chair,  all  the 
mother-hunger  in  her  still  unsatisfied.  She 
smothered  him  with  kisses  and  hugged  him 
to  her  breast,  holding  his  pinched  face  against 
her  ruddy  cheek.  Then  she  smoothed  his 
forehead  with  her  well-shaped  hand,  and 
rocked  him  back  and  forth.  By  and  by  she 
told  him  of  the  stone  that  the  Big  Gray  had 
got  in  his  hoof  down  at  the  fort  that  morn- 
ing, and  how  lame  he  had  been,  and  how 
Cully  had  taken  it  out  with  —  a  —  great  — 
big  —  spike  !  —  dwelling  on  the  last  words  as 
if  they  belonged  to  some  wonderful  fairy-tale. 
46 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S   LITTLE   GAME 

The  little  fellow  sat  up  in  her  lap  and  laughed 
as  he  patted  her  breast  joyously  with  his  thin 
hand.  "  Cully  could  do  it,"  he  shouted  in 
high  glee;  "Cully  can  do  anything."  Bab- 
cock,  apparently,  made  no  more  difference  to 
her  than  if  he  had  been  an  extra  chair. 

As  she  moved  about  her  rooms  afterward, 
calling  to  her  men  from  the  open  door,  con- 
sulting with  Jennie,  her  arms  about  her 
neck,  or  stopping  at  intervals  to  croon  over 
her  child,  she  seemed  to  him  to  lose  all  iden- 
tity with  the  woman  on  the  dock.  The  spirit 
that  enveloped  her  belonged  rather  to  that 
of  some  royal  dame  of  heroic  times,  than  to 
that  of  a  working  woman  of  to-day.  The 
room  somehow  became  her  castle,  the  rough 
stablemen  her  knights. 

On  his  return  to  his  work  she  walked  back 
with  him  part  of  the  way.  Babcock,  still 
bewildered,  and  still  consumed  with  curiosity 
to  learn  something  of  her  past,  led  the  talk 
to  her  life  along  the  docks,  expressing  his 
great  surprise  at  discovering  her  so  capable 
and  willing  to  do  a  man's  work,  asking  who 
had  taught  her,  and  whether  her  husband 
in  his  time  had  been  equally  efficient  and 
strong. 

47 


TOM   GROGAN 

Instantly  she  grew  reticent.  She  did  not 
even  answer  his  question.  He  waited  a  mo- 
ment, and,  realizing  his  mistake,  turned  the 
conversation  in  another  direction. 

"And  how  about  those  rough  fellows 
around  the  wharves  —  those  who  don't  know 
you  —  are  they  never  coarse  and  brutal  to 
you  ? " 

"  Not  when  I  look  'em  in  the  face,"  she 
answered  slowly  and  deliberately.  "  No  man 
ever  opens  his  head,  nor  dar's  n't.  When 
they  see  me  a-comin'  they  stops  talkin',  if  it 's 
what  they  would  n't  want  their  daughters 
to  hear ;  an'  there  ain't  no  dirty  back  talk, 
neither.  An'  I  make  me  own  men  civil,  too, 
with  a  dacint  tongue  in  their  heads.  I  had 
a  young  strip  of  a  lad  once  who  would  be 
a-swearin'  round  the  stables.  I  told  him  to 
mend  his  manners  or  I  'd  wash  his  mouth 
out,  an'  that  I  would  n't  have  nobody  hit  me 
horses  on  the  head.  He  kep'  along,  an'  I  see 
it  was  a  bad  example  for  the  other  drivers 
(this  was  only  a  year  ago,  an'  I  had  three 
of  'em) ;  so  when  he  hit  the  Big  Gray  ag'in, 
I  hauled  off  and  give  him  a  crack  that  laid 
him  out.  I  was  scared  solid  for  two  hours, 
though  they  never  knew  it." 
48 


SERGEANT   DUFFY'S    LITTLE   GAME 

Then,  with  an  almost  piteous  look  in  her 
face,  and  with  a  sudden  burst  of  confidence, 
born,  doubtless,  of  a  dawning  faith  in  the 
man's  evident  sincerity  and  esteem,  she  said 
in  a  faltering  tone  :  — 

"  God  help  me  !  what  can  I  do  ?  I  've  no 
man  to  stand  by  me,  an'  somebody  's  got  to 
be  boss." 

49 


IV 

A   WALKING   DELEGATE    LEARNS    A    NEW  STEP 

McGAW'S  failure  to  undermine  Tom's 
business  with  Babcock,  and  his  com- 
plete discomfiture  over  Crane's  coal  contract 
at  the  fort,  only  intensified  his  hatred  of  the 
woman. 

Finding  that  he  could  make  no  headway 
against  her  alone,  he  called  upon  the  Union 
to  assist  him,  claiming  that  she  was  employ- 
ing non-union  labor,  and  had  thus  been  able 
to  cut  down  the  discharging  rates  to  starva- 
tion prices. 

A  meeting  was  accordingly  called  by  the 
executive  committee  of  the  Knights,  and  a 
resolution  passed  condemning  certain  persons 
in  the  village  of  Rockville  as  traitors  to  the 
cause  of  the  workingman.  Only  one  copy  of 
this  edict  was  issued  and  mailed.  This  found 
its  way  into  Tom  Grogan's  letter-box.  Five 
minutes  after  she  had  broken  the  seal,  her 
5° 


A  WALKING  DELEGATE 

men  discovered  the  document  pasted  upside 
down  on  her  stable  door. 

McGaw  heard  of  her  action  that  night,  and 
started  another  line  of  attack.  It  was  man- 
aged so  skillfully  that  that  which  until  then 
had  been  only  a  general  dissatisfaction  on 
the  part  of  the  members  of  the  Union  and 
their  sympathizers  over  Tom's  business  meth- 
ods now  developed  into  an  avowed  deter- 
mination to  crush  her.  They  discussed  sev- 
eral plans  by  which  she  could  be  compelled 
either  to  restore  rates  for  unloading,  or  be 
forced  out  of  the  business  altogether.  As 
one  result  of  these  deliberations  a  committee 
called  upon  the  priest,  Father  McCluskey, 
and  informed  him  of  the  delicate  position  in 
which  the  Union  had  been  placed  by  her 
having  hidden  her  husband  away,  thus  for- 
cing them  to  fight  the  woman  herself.  She 
was  making  trouble,  they  urged,  with  her  low 
wages  and  her  unloading  rates.  "  Perhaps 
his  Riverence  c'u'd  straighten  her  out." 

Father  McCluskey's  interview  with  Tom 
took  place  in  the  priest's  room  one  morning 
after  early  mass.  It  had  gone  abroad,  some- 
how, that  his  Reverence  intended  to  disci- 
pline the  "  high  -flyer,"  and  a  considerable 
5' 


TOM  GROGAN 

number  of  the  "tenement-house  gang,"  as 
Tom  called  them,  had  loitered  behind  to 
watch  the  effect  of  the  good  father's  remon- 
strances. 

What  Tom  told  the  priest  no  one  ever 
knew :  such  conferences  are  part  of  the  re- 
gime of  the  church,  and  go  no  farther.  It 
was  noticed,  however,  as  she  came  down  the 
aisle,  that  her  eyes  were  red,  as  if  from  weep- 
ing, and  that  she  never  raised  them  from  the 
floor  as  she  passed  between  her  enemies  on 
her  way  to  the  church  door.  Once  outside, 
she  put  her  arm  around  Jennie,  who  was  wait- 
ing, and  the  two  strolled  slowly  across  the 
lots  to  her  house. 

When  the  priest  came  out,  his  own  eyes 
were  tinged  with  moisture.  He  called  Den- 
nis Quigg,  McGaw's  right-hand  man,  and  in  a 
voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  those  near- 
est him  expressed  his  indignation  that  any 
dissension  should  have  arisen  among  his  peo- 
ple over  a  woman's  work,  and  said  that  he 
would  hear  no  more  of  this  unchristian  and 
unmanly  interference  with  one  whose  only 
support  came  from  the  labor  of  her  hands. 

McGaw  and  his  friends  were  not  discour- 
aged. They  were  only  determined  upon  some 
52 


A   WALKING  DELEGATE 

more  definite  stroke.  It  was  therefore  or- 
dered that  a  committee  be  appointed  to  way- 
lay her  men  going  to  work,  and  inform  them 
of  their  duty  to  their  fellow-laborers. 

Accordingly,  this  same  Quigg  —  smooth- 
shaven,  smirking,  and  hollow-eyed,  with  a 
diamond  pin,  half  a  yard  of  watch-chain,  and 
a  fancy  shirt  —  ex-village  clerk  with  his  ac- 
counts short,  ex -deputy  sheriff  with  his 
accounts  of  cruelty  and  blackmail  long,  and 
at  present  walking  delegate  of  the  Union  — 
was  appointed  a  committee  of  one  for  that 
duty. 

Quigg  began  by  begging  a  ride  in  one  of 
Tom's  return  carts,  and  taking  this  oppor- 
tunity to  lay  before  the  driver  the  enormity 
of  working  for  Grogan  for  thirty  dollars  a 
month  and  board,  when  there  were  a  number 
of  his  brethren  out  of  work  and  starving  who 
would  not  work  for  less  than  two  dollars  a 
day  if  it  were  offered  them.  It  was  plainly 
the  driver's  duty,  Quigg  urged,  to  give  up  his 
job  until  Tom  Grogan  could  be  compelled  to 
hire  him  back  at  advanced  wages.  During 
this  enforced  idleness  the  Union  would  pay 
the  driver  fifty  cents  a  day.  Here  Quigg 
pounded  his  chest,  clenched  his  fists,  and 
53 


TOM  GROGAN 

said  solemnly,  "  If  capital  once  downs  the 
lab'rin'  man,  we  '11  all  be  slaves." 

The  driver  was  Carl  Nilsson,  a  Swede,  a 
big,  blue-eyed,  light-haired  young  fellow  of 
twenty-two,  a  sailor  from  boyhood,  who  three 
years  before,  on  a  public  highway,  had  been 
picked  up  penniless  and  hungry  by  Tom 
Grogan,  after  the  keeper  of  a  sailors'  board- 
ing-house had  robbed  him  of  his  year's  sav- 
ings. The  change  from  cracking  ice  from  a 
ship's  deck  with  a  marlinespike,  to  currying 
and  feeding  something  alive  and  warm  and 
comfortable,  was  so  delightful  to  the  Swede 
that  he  had  given  up  the  sea  for  a  while.  He 
had  felt  that  he  could  ship  again  at  any  time, 
the  water  was  so  near.  As  the  months  went 
by,  however,  he,  too,  gradually  fell  under  the 
spell  of  Tom's  influence.  She  reminded  him 
of  the  great  Norse  women  he  had  read  about 
in  his  boyhood.  Besides  all  this,  he  was 
loyal  and  true  to  the  woman  who  had  be- 
friended him,  and  who  had  so  far  appreciated 
his  devotion  to  her  interests  as  to  promote 
him  from  hostler  and  driver  to  foreman  of 
the  stables. 

Nilsson  knew  Quigg  by  sight,  for  he  had 
seen  him  walking  home  with  Jennie  from 
54 


A  WALKING  DELEGATE 

church.  His  knowledge  of  English  was 
slight,  but  it  was  enough  to  enable  him  to 
comprehend  Quigg's  purpose  as  he  talked 
beside  him  on  the  cart.  After  some  ques- 
tions about  how  long  the  enforced  idleness 
would  continue,  he  asked  suddenly  :  — 

"  Who  da  horse  clean  when  I  go  'way  ? " 

"  D — n  her  !  let  her  clean  it  herself,"  Quigg 
answered  angrily. 

This  ended  the  question  for  Nilsson,  and 
it  very  nearly  ended  the  delegate.  Jumping 
from  the  cart,  Carl  picked  up  the  shovel  and 
sprang  toward  Quigg,  who  dodged  out  of  his 
way,  and  then  took  to  his  heels. 

When  Nilsson,  still  white  with  anger, 
reached  the  dock,  he  related  the  incident  to 
Cully,  who,  on  his  return  home,  retailed  it  to 
Jennie  with  such  variety  of  gesture  and  into- 
nation that  that  young  lady  blushed  scarlet, 
but  whether  from  sympathy  for  Quigg  or 
admiration  for  Nilsson,  Cully  was  unable  to 
decide. 

Quigg's  failure  to  coax  away  one  of  Tom's 
men  ended  active  operations  against  Tom, 
so  far  as  the  Union  was  concerned.  It  con- 
tinued to  listen  to  McGaw's  protests,  but, 
with  an  eye  open  for  its  own  interests,  replied 
55 


TOM  GROGAN 

that  if  Grogan's  men  would  not  be  enticed 
away  it  could  at  present  take  no  further  ac- 
tion. His  trouble  with  Tom  was  an  individual 
matter,  and  a  little  patience  on  McGaw's  part 
was  advised.  The  season's  work  was  over, 
and  nothing  of  importance  could  be  done 
until  the  opening  of  the  spring  business.  If 
Tom's  men  struck  now,  she  would  be  glad  to 
get  rid  of  them.  It  would,  therefore,  be  wiser 
to  wait  until  she  could  not  do  without  them, 
when  they  might  all  be  forced  out  in  a  body. 
In  the  interim  McGaw  should  direct  his 
efforts  to  harassing  his  enemy.  Perhaps  a 
word  with  Slattery,  the  blacksmith,  might 
induce  that  worthy  brother  Knight  to  refuse 
to  do  her  shoeing  some  morning  when  she 
was  stalled  for  want  of  a  horse  ;  or  he  might 
let  a  nail  slip  in  a  tender  hoof.  No  one  could 
tell  what  might  happen  in  the  coming  months. 
At  the  moment  the  funds  of  the  Union  were 
too  low  for  aggressive  measures.  Were  Mc- 
Gaw, however,  to  make  a  contribution  of 
two  hundred  dollars  to  the  bank  account  in 
order  to  meet  possible  emergencies,  some- 
thing might  be  done.  All  this  was  duly 
inscribed  in  the  books  of  the  committee, 
—  that  is,  the  last  part  of  it,  —  and  upon 
56 


A   WALKING  DELEGATE 

McGaw's  promising  to  do  what  he  could 
toward  improving  the  funds.  It  was  there- 
upon subsequently  resolved  that  before  re- 
sorting to  harsher  measures  the  Union  should 
do  all  in  its  power  toward  winning  over  the 
enemy.  Brother  Knight  Dennis  Quigg  was 
thereupon  deputed  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Grogan 
and  invite  her  into  the  Union. 

On  brother  Knight  Dennis  Ouigg's  declin- 
ing for  private  reasons  the  honorable  mission 
intrusted  to  him  by  the  honorable  board  (Mr. 
Quigg's  exact  words  of  refusal,  whispered  in 
the  chairman's  ear,  were,  "  I  'm  a-jollyin'  one 
of  her  kittens  ;  send  somebody  else  after  the 
old  cat "),  another  walking  delegate,  brother 
Knight  Crimmins  by  name,  was  selected  to 
carry  out  the  gracious  action  of  the  com- 
mittee. 

Crimmins  had  begun  life  as  a  plumber's 
helper,  had  been  iceman,  night-watchman, 
heeler,  and  full-fledged  plumber ;  and  having 
been  out  of  work  himself  for  months  at  a 
time,  was  admirably  qualified  to  speak  of  the 
advantages  of  idleness  to  any  other  candidate 
for  like  honors. 

He  was  a  small  man  with  a  big  nose,  griz- 
zled chin-whiskers,  and  rum-and-watery  eyes, 
57 


TOM  GROGAN 

and  wore  constantly  a  pair  of  patched  blue 
overalls  as  a  badge  of  his  laborship.  The 
seat  of  these  outside  trousers  showed  more 
wear  than  his  hands. 

Immediately  upon  his  appointment,  Crim- 
mins  went  to  McGaw's  house  to  talk  over  the 
line  of  attack.  The  conference  was  held  in 
the  sitting-room  and  behind  closed  doors  — 
so  tightly  closed  that  young  Billy  McGaw, 
with  one  eye  in  mourning  from  the  effect 
of  a  recent  street  fight,  was  unable,  even  by 
the  aid  of  the  undamaged  eye  and  the  key- 
hole, to  get  the  slightest  inkling  of  what  was 
going  on  inside. 

When  the  door  was  finally  opened  and 
McGaw  and  Crimmins  came  out,  they  brought 
with  them  an  aroma  the  pungency  of  which 
was  explained  by  two  empty  glasses  and  a 
black  bottle  decorating  one  end  of  the  only 
table  in  the  room. 

As  Crimmins  stepped  down  from  the 
broken  stoop,  with  its  rusty  rain-spout  and 
rotting  floor-planks,  Billy  overheard  this  part- 
ing remark  from  his  father :  "  Thry  the  ile 
furst,  Crimmy,  an'  see  what  she  '11  do  ;  thin 
give  her  the  vinegar;  and  thin,"  with  an 
oath,  "ef  that  don't  fetch  'er,  come  back 
53 


A    WALKING   DELEGATE 

here  to  me  and  we  '11  give  'er  the  red  pep- 
per." 

Brother  Knight  Crimmins  waved  his  hand 
to  the  speaker.  "Just  leave  'er  to  me,  Dan," 
he  said,  and  started  for  Tom's  house.  Crim- 
mins was  delighted  with  his  mission.  He 
felt  sure  of  bringing  back  her  application 
within  an  hour.  Nothing  ever  pleased  him 
so  much  as  to  work  a  poor  woman  into  an 
agony  of  fright  with  threats  of  the  Union. 
Wives  and  daughters  had  often  followed  him 
out  into  the  street,  begging  him  to  let  the 
men  alone  for  another  week  until  they  could 
pay  the  rent.  Sometimes,  when  he  relented, 
the  more  grateful  would  bless  him  for  his 
magnanimity.  This  increased  his  self-re- 
spect. 

Tom  met  him  at  the  door.  She  had  been 
sitting  up  with  a  sick  child  of  Dick  Todd, 
foreman  at  the  brewery,  and  had  just  come 
home.  Hardly  a  week  passed  without  some 
one  in  distress  sending  for  her.  She  had 
never  seen  Crimmins  before,  and  thought  he 
had  come  to  mend  the  roof.  His  first  words, 
however,  betrayed  him  :  — 

"  The  Knights  sent  me  up  to  have  a  word 
wid  ye." 

59 


TOM   GROGAN 

Tom  made  a  movement  as  if  to  shut  the 
door  in  his  face ;  then  she  paused  for  an 
instant,  and  said  curtly,  "  Come  inside." 

Crimmins  crushed  his  slouch-hat  in  his 
hand,  and  slunk  into  a  chair  by  the  window. 
Tom  remained  standing. 

"I  see  ye  like  flowers,  Mrs.  Grogan,"  he 
began,  in  his  gentlest  voice.  "  Them  gera- 
niums is  the  finest  I  iver  see "  —  peering 
under  the  leaves  of  the  plants.  "  Guess  it 's 
'cause  ye  water  'em  so  much." 

Tom  made  no  reply. 

Crimmins  fidgeted  on  his  chair  a  little,  and 
tried  another  tack.  "  I  s'pose  ye  ain't  doin' 
much  just  now,  weather  's  so  bad.  The 
road  's  awful  goin'  down  to  the  fort." 

Tom's  hands  were  in  the  side  pockets  of 
her  ulster.  Her  face  was  aglow  with  her  brisk 
walk  from  the  tenements.  She  never  took 
her  eyes  from  his  face,  and  never  moved  a 
muscle  of  her  body.  She  was  slowly  revolv- 
ing in  her  mind  whether  any  information  she 
could  get  out  of  him  would  be  worth  the  wait- 
ing for. 

Crimmins  relapsed  into  silence,  and  began 
patting  the  floor  with  his  foot.  The  pro- 
longed stillness  was  becoming  uncomfortable. 
60 


A   WALKING   DELEGATE 

"  I  was  tellin'  ye  about  the  meetin'  we  had 
to  the  Union  last  night.  We  was  goin'  over 
the  list  of  members,  an'  we  did  n't  find  yer 
name.  The  board  thought  maybe  ye  'd  like 
to  come  in  wid  us.  The  dues  is  only  two 
dollars  a  month.  We  're  a-regulatin'  the 
prices  for  next  year,  stevedorin'  an'  haulin', 
an'  the  rates  '11  be  sent  out  next  week."  The 
stopper  was  now  out  of  the  oil-bottle. 

"  How  many  members  have  ye  got  ?  "  she 
asked  quietly. 

"  Hundred  an'  seventy-three  in  our  branch 
of  the  Knights." 

"  All  pay  two  dollars  a  month  ?  " 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it,"  said  Crim- 
mins. 

"  What  do  we  git  when  we  jine  ?  " 

"Well,  we  all  pull  together — that's  one 
thing.  One  man's  strike 's  every  man's 
strike.  The  capitalists  been  tryin'  to  down 
us,  an'  the  laborin'-man  's  got  to  stand  to- 
gether. Did  ye  hear  about  the  Fertilizer 
Company  's  layin'  off  two  of  our  men  las' 
Friday  just  fer  bein'  off  a  day  or  so  without 
leave,  and  their  gittin'  a  couple  of  scabs  from 
Hoboken  to  "  — 

"  What  else  do  we  git  ? "  said  Tom,  in  a 
61 


TOM   GROGAN 

quick,  imperious  tone,  ignoring  the  digres- 
sion.    She  had  moved  a  step  closer. 

Crimmins  looked  slyly  up  into  her  eyes. 
Until  this  moment  he  had  been  addressing 
his  remarks  to  the  brass  ornament  on  the 
extreme  top  of  the  cast-iron  stove.  Tom's 
expression  of  face  did  not  reassure  him  ;  in 
fact,  the  steady  gaze  of  her  clear  gray  eye 
was  as  uncomfortable  as  the  focused  light  of 
a  sun  lens. 

"Well — we  help  each  other,"  he  blurted 
out. 

"  Do  you  do  any  helpin'  ?  " 

"  Yis ; "  stiffening  a  little.  "  I  'm  the  walkin' 
delegate  of  our  branch." 

"  Oh,  ye  're  the  walkin'  delegate !  You 
don't  pay  no  two  dollars,  then,  do  ye  ?  " 

"  No.  There  's  got  to  be  somebody  a-goin' 
round  all  the  time,  an'  Dinnis  Quigg  and 
me  's  confidential  agents  of  the  branch,  an' 
zvhat  wc  says  goes"  —  slapping  his  overalls 
decisively  with  his  fist.  McGaw's  suggested 
stopper  was  being  loosened  on  the  vinegar. 

Tom's  fingers  closed  tightly.     Her  collar 

began  to  feel  small.     "  An'  I  s'pose  if  ye  said 

I  should  pay  me  men  double  wages,  and  put 

up  the  price  o'  haulin'  so  high  that  me  cus- 

62 


A   WALKING  DELEGATE 

tomers  could  n't  pay  it,  so  that  some  of  yer 
dirty  loafers  could  cut  in  an'  git  it,  I  'd  have  to 
do  it,  whether  I  wanted  to  or  not ;  or  maybe 
ye  think  I  'd  oughter  chuck  some  o'  me  own 
boys  into  the  road  because  they  don't  belong 
to  yer  branch,  as  ye  call  it,  and  git  a  lot  o' 
dead  beats  to  work  in  their  places  who  don't 
know  a  horse  from  a  coal-bucket.  An'  ye  '11 
help  me,  will  ye  ?  Come  out  here  on  the 
front  porch,  Mr.  Crimmins  "  —  opening  the 
door  with  a  jerk.  "Do  ye  see  that  stable 
over  there  ?  Well,  it  covers  seven  horses  ; 
an'  the  shed  has  six  carts  with  all  the  har- 
ness. Back  of  it  —  perhaps  if  ye  stand  on 
yer  toes  even  a  little  feller  like  you  can  see 
the  top  of  another  shed.  That  one  has  me 
derricks  an'  tools." 

Crimmins  tried  to  interrupt  long  enough 
to  free  McGaw's  red  pepper,  but  her  words 
poured  out  in  a  torrent. 

"  Now  ye  can  go  back  an'  tell  Dan  McGaw 
an'  the  balance  of  yer  two-dollar  loafers  that 
there  ain't  a  dollar  owin'  on  any  horse  in  my 
stable,  an'  that  I  've  earned  everything  I  've 
got  without  a  man  round  to  help  'cept  those  I 
pays  wages  to.  An'  ye  can  tell  'em,  too,  that 
I  '11  hire  who  I  please,  an'  pay  'em  what  they 
63 


TOM   GROGAN 

oughter  git ;  an'  I  '11  do  me  own  haulm*  an' 
unloadin'  fer  nothin'  if  it  suits  me.  When 
ye  said  ye  were  a  walkin'  delegate  ye  spoke 
God's  truth.  Ye  'd  be  a  ridin'  delegate  if  ye 
could  ;  but  there  's  one  thing  ye  '11  niver  be, 
an'  that 's  a  workin'  delegate,  as  long  as  ye 
kin  find  fools  to  pay  ye  wages  fer  bummin' 
round  day  'n'  night.  If  I  had  me  way,  ye 
zvould  walk,  but  it  would  be  on  yer  uppers, 
wid  yer  bare  feet  to  the  road." 

Crimmins  again  attempted  to  speak,  but 
she  raised  her  arm  threateningly :  "  Now,  if 
it 's  walkin*  ye  are,  ye  can  begin  right  away. 
Let  me  see  ye  earn  yer  wages  down  that 
garden  an'  into  the  road.  Come,  lively  now, 
before  I  disgrace  meself  a-layin'  hands  on 
the  likes  of  ye  !  " 

64 


A   WORD   FROM   THE   TENEMENTS 

ONE  morning  Patsy  came  up  the  garden 
path  limping  on  his  crutch  ;  the  little 
fellow's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  He  had 
been  out  with  his  goat  when  some  children 
from  the  tenements  surrounded  his  cart, 
pitched  it  into  the  ditch,  and  followed  him 
half  way  home,  calling  "  Scab  !  scab  !  "  at  the 
top  of  their  voices. 

Cully  heard  his  cries,  and  ran  through  the 
yard  to  meet  him,  his  anger  rising  at  every 
step.  To  lay  hands  on  Patsy  was,  to  Cully, 
the  unpardonable  sin.  Ever  since  the  day, 
five  years  before,  when  Tom  had  taken  him 
into  her  employ,  a  homeless  waif  of  the 
streets,  —  his  father  had  been  drowned  from 
a  canal-boat  she  was  unloading,  —  and  had 
set  him  down  beside  Patsy's  crib  to  watch 
while  she  was  at  her  work,  Jennie  being  at 
school,  Cully  had  loved  the  little  cripple 
with  the  devotion  of  a  dog  to  its  master. 
65 


TOM   GROGAN 

Lawless,  rough,  often  cruel,  and  sometimes 
vindictive  as  Cully  was  to  others,  a  word 
from  Patsy  humbled  and  softened  him. 

And  Patsy  loved  Cully.  His  big,  broad 
chest,  stout,  straight  legs,  strong  arms  and 
hands,  were  his  admiration  and  constant 
pride.  Cully  was  his  champion  and  his  ideal. 
The  waifs  recklessness  and  audacity  were  to 
him  only  evidences  of  so  much  brains  and 
energy. 

This  love  between  the  lads  grew  stronger 
after  Tom  had  sent  to  Dublin  for  her  old 
father,  that  she  might  have  "a  man  about 
the  house."  Then  a  new  blessing  came,  not 
only  into  the  lives  of  both  the  lads,  but  into 
the  whole  household  as  well.  Mullins,  in 
his  later  years,  had  been  a  dependent  about 
Trinity  College,  and  constant  association 
with  books  and  students  had  given  him  a 
taste  for  knowledge  denied  his  daughter. 
Tom  had  left  home  when  a  girl.  In  the  long 
winter  nights  during  the  slack  season,  after 
the  stalls  were  bedded  and  the  horses  were 
fed  and  watered  and  locked  up  for  the  night, 
the  old  man  would  draw  up  his  chair  to  the 
big  kerosene  lamp  on  the  table,  and  tell  the 
boys  stories  —  they  listening  with  wide-open 
66 


A    WORD    FROM   THE   TENEMENTS 

eyes,  Cully  interrupting  the  narrative  every 
now  and  then  by  such  asides  as  "  No  flies  on 
them  fellers,  wuz  ther',  Patsy?  They  wuz 
daisies,  they  wuz.  Go  on,  Pop ;  it 's  bet- 
ter 'n  a  circus;"  while  Patsy  would  cheer 
aloud  at  the  downfall  of  the  vanquished,  with 
their  "three  thousand  lance-bearers  put  to 
death  by  the  sword,"  waving  his  crutch  over 
his  head  in  his  enthusiasm. 

Jennie  would  come  in  too,  and  sit  by  her 
mother ;  and  after  Nilsson's  encounter  with 
Quigg  —  an  incident  which  greatly  advanced 
him  in  Tom's  estimation  —  Cully  would  be 
sent  to  bring  him  in  from  his  room  over  the 
stable  and  give  him  a  chair  with  the  others, 
that  he  might  learn  the  language  easier. 
At  these  times  it  was  delightful  to  watch  the 
expression  of  pride  and  happiness  that  would 
come  over  Tom's  face  as  she  listened  to  her 
father's  talk. 

"  But  ye  have  a  great  head,  Gran'pop,"  she 
would  say.  "  Cully,  ye  blatherin'  idiot,  why 
don't  ye  brace  up  an'  git  some  knowledge  in 
yer  head  ?  Sure,  Gran'pop,  Father  McClus- 
key  ain't  in  it  wid  ye  a  minute.  Ye  could 
down  the  whole  gang  of  'em."  And  the  old 
man  would  smile  faintly  and  say  he  had 
67 


TOM  GROGAN 

heard  the  young  gentlemen  at  the  college 
recite  the  stories  so  many  times  he  could 
never  forget  them. 

In  this  way  the  boys  grew  closer  together, 
Patsy  cramming  himself  from  books  during 
the  day  in  order  to  tell  Cully  at  night  all 
about  the  Forty  Thieves  boiled  in  oil,  or  Ali 
Baba  and  his  donkey,  or  poor  man  Friday  to 
whom  Robinson  Crusoe  was  so  kind  ;  and 
Cully  relating  in  return  how  Jimrr.ie  Finn 
smashed  Pat  Gilsey's  face  because  he  threw 
stones  at  his  sister,  ending  with  a  full  account 
of  a  dog-fight  which  a  "  snoozer  of  a  cop " 
stopped  with  his  club. 

So  when  Patsy  came  limping  up  the  garden 
path  this  morning,  rubbing  his  eyes,  his  voice 
choking,  and  the  tears  streaming,  and,  bury- 
ing his  little  face  in  Cully's  jacket,  poured  out 
his  tale  of  insult  and  suffering,  that  valiant 
defender  of  the  right  pulled  his  cap  tight  over 
his  eyes  and  began  a  still-hunt  through  the 
tenements.  There,  as  he  afterwards  expressed 
it,  he  "  mopped  up  the  floor"  with  one  after 
another  of  the  ringleaders,  beginning  with 
young  Billy  McGaw,  Dan's  eldest  son  and 
Cully's  senior. 

Tom  was  dumfounded  at  the  attack  on 
68 


A    WORD   FROM   THE   TENEMENTS 

Patsy.  This  was  a  blow  upon  which  she  had 
not  counted.  To  strike  her  Patsy,  her  crip- 
ple, her  baby  !  The  cowardice  of  it  incensed 
her.  She  knew  instantly  that  her  affairs 
must  have  been  common  talk  about  the 
tenements  to  have  produced  so  great  an 
effect  upon  the  children.  She  felt  sure  that 
their  fathers  and  mothers  had  encouraged 
them  in  it. 

In  emergencies  like  this  it  was  never  to 
the  old  father  that  she  turned.  He  was  too 
feeble,  too  much  a  thing  of  the  past.  While 
to  a  certain  extent  he  influenced  her  life, 
standing  always  for  the  right  and  always  for 
the  kindest  thing  she  could  do,  yet  when  it 
came  to  times  of  action  and  danger  she  felt 
the  need  of  a  younger  and  more  vigorous 
mind.  It  was  on  Jennie,  really  more  her 
companion  than  her  daughter,  that  she  de- 
pended for  counsel  and  sympathy  at  these 
times. 

Tom  did  not  underestimate  the  gravity  of 
the  situation.  Up  to  that  point  in  her  career 
she  had  fought  only  the  cold,  the  heat,  the 
many  weary  hours  of  labor  far  into  the  night, 
and  now  and  then  some  man  like  McGaw. 
But  this  stab  from  out  the  dark  was  a  danger 
69 


TOM   GROGAN 

to  which  she  was  unused.  She  saw  in  this 
last  move  of  McGaw's,  aided  as  he  was  by  the 
Union,  not  only  a  determination  to  ruin  her, 
but  a  plan  to  divide  her  business  among  a  set 
of  men  who  hated  her  as  much  on  account  of 
her  success  as  for  anything  else.  A  few  more 
horses  and  carts  and  another  barn  or  two,  and 
she  herself  would  become  a  hated  capitalist. 
That  she  had  stood  out  in  the  wet  and  cold 
herself,  hours  at  a  time,  like  any  man  among 
them ;  that  she  had,  in  her  husband's  early 
days,  helped  him  feed  and  bed  their  one  horse, 
often  currying  him  herself  ;  that  when  she 
and  her  Tom  had  moved  to  Rockville  with 
their  savings  and  there  were  three  horses  to 
care  for  and  her  husband  needed  more  help 
than  he  could  hire,  she  had  brought  her  little 
baby  Patsy  to  the  stable  while  she  worked 
there  like  a  man  ;  that  during  all  this  time 
she  had  cooked  and  washed  and  kept  the 
house  tidy  for  four  people  ;  that  she  had  done 
all  these  things  she  felt  would  not  count  now 
with  the  Union,  though  each  member  of  it 
was  a  bread-winner  like  herself. 

She  knew  what  power  it  wielded.     There 
had  been  the  Martin  family,  honest,  hard- 
working people,  who  had  come  down  from 
70 


A   WORD   FROM   THE   TENEMENTS 

Haverstraw  —  the  man  and  wife  and  their 
three  children  —  and  moved  into  the  new  ten- 
ement with  all  their  nice  furniture  and  new 
carpets.  Tom  had  helped  them  unload  these 
things  from  the  brick-sloop  that  brought 
them.  A  few  weeks  after,  poor  Martin,  still 
almost  a  stranger,  had  been  brought  home 
from  the  gas-house  with  his  head  laid  open, 
because  he  had  taken  the  place  of  a  Union 
man  discharged  for  drunkenness,  and  lingered 
for  weeks  until  he  died.  Then  the  widow, 
with  her  children  about  her,  had  been  put 
aboard  another  sloop  that  was  going  back  to 
her  old  home.  Tom  remembered,  as  if  it 
were  yesterday,  the  heap  of  furniture  and 
little  pile  of  kitchen  things  sold  under  the 
red  flag  outside  the  store  near  the  post-office. 
She  had  seen,  too,  the  suffering  and  misery 
of  her  neighbors  during  the  long  strike  at  the 
brewery  two  years  before,  and  the  moving  in 
and  out  from  house  to  tenement  and  tene- 
ment to  shanty,  with  never  a  day's  work  after- 
ward for  any  man  who  left  his  job.  She  had 
helped  many  of  the  men  who,  three  years 
before,  had  been  driven  out  of  work  by  the 
majority  vote  of  the  Carpenters'  Union,  and 
who  dared  not  go  back  and  face  the  terrible 

7i 


TOM   GROGAN 

excommunication,  the  social  boycott,  with  all 
its  insults  and  cruelties.  She  shuddered  as 
she  thought  again  of  her  suspicions  years  ago 
when  the  bucket  had  fallen  that  crushed  in 
her  husband's  chest,  and  sent  him  to  bed  for 
months,  only  to  leave  it  a  wrecked  man.  The 
rope  that  held  the  bucket  had  been  burned 
by  acid,  Dr.  Mason  said.  Some  grudge  of 
the  Union,  she  had  always  felt,  was  paid  off 
then. 

She  knew  what  the  present  trouble  meant, 
now  that  it  was  started,  and  she  knew  in  what 
it  might  end.  But  her  courage  never  wavered. 
She  ran  over  in  her  mind  the  names  of  the 
several  men  who  were  fighting  her  —  McGaw, 
for  whom  she  had  a  contempt ;  Dempsey  and 
Jimmie  Brown,  of  the  executive  committee, 
both  liquor-dealers  ;  Paterson,  foreman  of  the 
gas-house  ;  and  the  rest  —  dangerous  enemies, 
she  knew. 

That  night  she  sent  for  Nilsson  to  come  to 
the  house  ;  heard  from  him,  word  for  word, 
of  Quigg's  effort  to  corrupt  him ;  questioned 
Patsy  closely,  getting  the  names  of  the  chil- 
dren who  had  abused  him  ;  then  calling 
Jennie  into  her  bedroom,  she  locked  the 
door  behind  them. 


A   WORD   FROM   THE   TENEMENTS 

When  they  reentered  the  sitting-room,  an 
hour  later,  Jennie's  lips  were  quivering. 
Tom's  mouth  was  firmly  set.  Her  mind 
was  made  up. 

She  would  fight  it  out  to  the  bitter  end 
73 


VI 

THE    BIG    GRAY   GOES    HUNGRY 

THAT  invincible  spirit  which  dwelt  in 
Tom's  breast  —  that  spirit  which  had 
dared  Lathers,  outwitted  Duffy,  cowed  Crim- 
mins,  and  braved  the  Union,  did  not,  strange 
to  say,  dominate  all  the  members  of  her  own 
household.  One  defied  her.  This  was  no 
other  than  that  despoiler  of  new -washed 
clothes,  old  harness,  wagon -grease,  time- 
books,  and  spring  flowers,  that  Arab  of  the 
open  lot,  Stumpy  the  goat. 

This  supremacy  of  the  goat  had  lasted 
since  the  eventful  morning  when,  only  a  kid 
of  tender  days,  he  had  come  into  the  stable- 
yard  and  wobbled  about  on  his  uncertain 
legs,  nestling  down  near  the  door  where 
Patsy  lay.  During  all  these  years  he  had 
ruled  over  Tom.  At  first  because  his  fuzzy 
white  back  and  soft,  silky  legs  had  been  so 
precious  to  the  little  cripple,  and  later  be- 
cause of  his  inexhaustible  energy,  his  aggres- 
74 


THE   BIG  GRAY   GOES   HUNGRY 

siveness,  and  his  marvelous  activity.  Brave 
spirits  have  fainted  at  the  sight  of  spiders, 
others  have  turned  pale  at  lizards,  and  some 
have  shivered  when  cats  crossed  their  paths. 
The  only  thing  Tom  feared  on  any  num- 
ber of  legs,  from  centipedes  to  men,  was 
Stumpy. 

"  Git  out,  ye  imp  of  Satan  ! "  she  would 
say,  raising  her  hand  when  he  wandered  too 
near  ;  "  or  I  '11  smash  ye  !  "  The  next  instant 
she  would  be  dodging  behind  the  cart  out  of 
the  way  of  Stumpy's  lowered  horns,  with  a 
scream  as  natural  and  as  uncontrollable  as 
that  of  a  schoolgirl  over  a  mouse.  When  he 
stood  in  the  path  cleared  of  snow  from  house 
to  stable  door,  with  head  down,  prepared  to 
dispute  every  inch  of  the  way  with  her,  she 
would  tramp  yards  around  him,  up  to  her 
knees  in  the  drift,  rather  than  face  his  ob- 
stinate front. 

The  basest  of  ingratitude  actuated  the 
goat.  When  the  accident  occurred  that 
gained  him  his  sobriquet  and  lost  him  his 
tail,  it  was  Tom's  quickness  of  hand  alone 
that  saved  the  remainder  of  his  kidship  from 
disappearing  as  his  tail  had  done.  Indeed, 
she  not  only  choked  the  dog  who  attacked 
75 


TOM   GROGAN 

him,  until  he  loosened  his  hold  from  want  of 
breath,  but  she  threw  him  over  the  stable- 
yard  fence  as  an  additional  mark  of  her  dis- 
pleasure. 

In  spite  of  her  fear  of  him,  Tom  never 
dispossessed  Stumpy.  That  her  Patsy  loved 
him  insured  him  his  place  for  life. 

So  Stumpy  roamed  through  yard,  kitchen, 
and  stable,  stalking  over  bleaching  sheets, 
burglarizing  the  garden  gate,  and  grazing 
wherever  he  chose. 

The  goat  inspired  no  fear  in  anybody  else. 
Jennie  would  chase  him  out  of  her  way  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  and  Cully  would  play  bull- 
fight with  him,  and  Carl  and  the  other  men 
would  accord  him  his  proper  place,  spanking 
him  with  the  flat  of  a  shovel  whenever  he 
interfered  with  their  daily  duties,  or  shying 
a  corn-cob  after  him  when  his  alertness  car- 
ried him  out  of  their  reach. 

This  afternoon  Jennie  had  missed  her  blue- 
checked  apron.  It  had  been  drying  on  the 
line  outside  the  kitchen  door  five  minutes 
before.  There  was  no  one  at  home  but  her- 
self, and  she  had  seen  nobody  pass  the  door. 
Perhaps  the  apron  had  blown  over  into  the 
stable-yard.  If  it  had,  Carl  would  be  sure 
76 


THE   BIG  GRAY   GOES  HUNGRY 

to  have  seen  it.  She  knew  Carl  had  come 
home ;  she  had  been  watching  for  him 
through  the  window.  Then  she  ran  in  for 
her  shawl. 

Carl  was  rubbing  down  the  Big  Gray.  He 
had  been  hauling  ice  all  the  morning  for  the 
brewery.  The  Gray  was  under  the  cart- 
shed,  a  flood  of  winter  sunlight  silvering  his 
shaggy  mane  and  restless  ears.  The  Swede 
was  scraping  his  sides  with  the  currycomb, 
and  the  Big  Gray,  accustomed  to  Cully's  gen- 
tler touch,  was  resenting  the  familiarity  by 
biting  at  the  tippet  wound  about  the  neck  of 
the  young  man. 

Suddenly  Carl  raised  his  head  —  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  flying  apron  whipping 
round  the  stable  door.  He  knew  the  pattern. 
It  always  gave  him  a  lump  in  his  throat,  and 
some  little  creepings  down  his  back  when  he 
saw  it.  Then  he  laid  down  the  currycomb. 
The  next  instant  there  came  a  sound  as  of  a 
barrel-head  knocked  in  by  a  mixing-shovel, 
and  Stumpy  flew  through  the  door,  followed 
by  Carl  on  the  run.  The  familiar  bit  of  calico 
was  Jennie's  lost  apron.  One  half  was  inside 
the  goat,  the  other  half  was  in  the  hand  of 
the  Swede. 

77 


TOM   GROGAN 

Carl  hesitated  for  a  moment,  looked  cau- 
tiously about  the  yard,  and  walked  slowly 
toward  the  house,  his  eyes  on  the  fragments. 
He  never  went  to  the  house  except  when  he 
was  invited,  either  to  hear  Pop  read  or  to 
take  his  dinner  with  the  other  men.  At  this 
instant  Jennie  came  running  out,  the  shawl 
about  her  head. 

"  Oh,  Carl,  did  you  find  my  apron  ?  It 
blew  away,  and  I  thought  it  might  have  gone 
into  the  yard." 

"  Yas,  mees ;  an'  da  goat  see  it  too  — 
luke ! "  extending  the  tattered  fragments, 
anger  and  sorrow  struggling  for  the  mastery 
in  his  face. 

"  Well,  I  never  !  Carl,  it  was  a  bran'-new 
one.  Now  just  see,  all  the  strings  torn  off 
and  the  top  gone !  I  'm  just  going  to  give 
Stumpy  a  good  beating." 

Carl  suggested  that  he  run  after  the  goat 
and  bring  him  back  ;  but  Jennie  thought  he 
was  down  the  road  by  this  time,  and  Carl  had 
been  working  all  the  morning  and  must  be 
tired.     Besides,  she  must  get  some  wood. 

Carl  instantly  forgot  the  goat.  He  had 
forgotten  everything,  indeed,  except  the  trim 
little  body  who  stood  before  him  looking  into 
7* 


THE   BIG  GRAY   GOES   HUNGRY 

his  eyes.  He  glowed  all  over  with  inward 
warmth  and  delight.  Nobody  had  ever  cared 
before  whether  he  was  tired.  When  he  was 
a  little  fellow  at  home  at  Memlo  his  mother 
would  sometimes  worry  about  his  lifting  the 
big  baskets  of  fish  all  day,  but  he  could  not 
remember  that  anybody  else  had  ever  given 
his  feelings  a  thought.  All  this  flashed 
through  his  mind  as  he  returned  Jennie's 
look. 

"  No,  no  !  I  not  tire  —  I  brang  da  wood." 
And  then  Jennie  said  she  never  meant  it,  and 
Carl  knew  she  did  n't,  of  course  ;  and  then 
she  said  she  had  never  thought  of  such  a 
thing,  and  he  agreed  to  that  ;  and  they  talked 
so  long  over  it,  standing  out  in  the  radiance 
of  the  noonday  sun,  the  color  coming  and 
going  in  both  their  faces,  —  Carl  playing  aim- 
lessly with  his  tippet  tassel,  and  Jennie  plait- 
ing and  pinching  up  the  ruined  apron,  —  that 
the  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove  went  out,  and 
the  Big  Gray  grew  hungry  and  craned  his 
long  neck  around  the  shed  and  whinnied  for 
Carl,  and  even  Stumpy  the  goat  forgot  his 
hair  -  breadth  escape,  and  returned  near 
enough  to  the  scene  of  the  robbery  to  look 
down  at  it  from  the  hill  above. 
79 


TOM   GROGAN 

There  is  no  telling  how  long  the  Big  Gray 
would  have  waited  if  Cully  had  not  come 
home  to  dinner,  bringing  another  horse  with 
Patsy  perched  on  his  back.  The  brewery 
was  only  a  short  distance,  and  Tom  always 
gave  her  men  a  hot  meal  at  the  house  when- 
ever it  was  possible.  Had  any  other  horse 
been  neglected,  Cully  would  not  have  cared  ; 
but  the  Big  Gray  which  he  had  driven  ever 
since  the  day  Tom  brought  him  home,  — 
"  Old  Blowhard,"  as  he  would  often  call  him 
(the  Gray  was  a  bit  wheezy),  —  the  Big  Gray 
without  his  dinner ! 

"  Hully  gee  !  Look  at  de  bloke  a-jollying 
Jinnie,  an'  de  Blowhard  a-starvin'.  Say, 
Patsy,"  —  lifting  him  down,  — "hold  de  line 
till  I  git  de  Big  Gray  a  bite.  Git  on  ter  Carl, 
will  ye!  I'm  a-goin' —  ter  —  tell  —  de  — 
boss,"  —  with  a  threatening  air,  weighing 
each  word  —  "  jes  soon  as  she  gits  back.  Ef 
I  don't  I  'm  a  chump." 

At  sight  of  the  boys,  Jennie  darted  into 
the  house,  and  Carl  started  for  the  stable, 
his  head  in  the  clouds,  his  feet  on  air. 

"  No  ;  I  feed  da  horse,  Cully,"  —  jerking  at 
his  halter  to  get  him  away  from  Cully. 

"  A  hell  ov'er  lot  ye  will !  I  '11  feed  him 
80 


THE   BIG  GRAY   GOES   HUNGRY 

meself.  He 's  been  home  an  hour  now,  an' 
he  ain't  half  rubbed  down." 

Carl  made  a  grab  for  Cully,  who  dodged 
and  ran  under  the  cart.  Then  a  lump  of  ice 
whizzed  past  Carl's  ear. 

"  Here,  stop  that !  "  said  Tom,  entering  the 
gate.  She  had  been  in  the  city  all  the  morn- 
ing—  "to  look  after  her  poor  Tom,"  Pop 
said.  "  Don't  ye  be  throwing  things  round 
here,  or  I  '11  land  on  top  of  ye." 

"  Well,  why  don't  he  feed  de  Gray,  den  ? 
He  started  afore  me,  and  dey  wants  de  Gray 
down  ter  de  brewery,  and  he  up  ter  de  house 
a-buzzin'  Jinnie." 

"  I  go  brang  Mees  Jan's  apron  ;  da  goat  eat 
it  oop." 

"  Ye  did,  did  ye !  What  ye  givin'  us  ? 
Did  n't  I  see  ye  a-chinnin'  'er  whin  I  come 
over  de  hill  —  she  a-leanin'  up  ag'in'  de  fence, 
an'  youse  a-talkin'  ter  'er,  an'  ole  Blowhard 
cryin'  like  his  heart  was  broke  ? " 

"  Eat  up  what  apron  ?  "  said  Tom,  thor- 
oughly mystified  over  the  situation. 

"  Stumpy  eat  da  apron  —  I  brang  back  da 
half  ta  Mees  Jan." 

"  An'  it  took  ye  all  the  mornin'  to  give  it 
to  her  ? "  said  Tom  thoughtfully,  looking 
81 


TOM   GROGAN 

Carl  straight  in  the  eye,  a  new  vista  opening 
before  her. 

That  night  when  the  circle  gathered  about 
the  lamp  to  hear  Pop  read,  Carl  was  missing, 
Tom  had  not  sent  for  him. 
82 


vn 

THE    CONTENTS    OF   CULLY'S    MAIL 

WHEN  Walking  Delegate  Crimmins  had 
recovered  from  his  amazement,  after 
his  humiliating  defeat  at  Tom's  hands,  he 
stood  irresolute  for  a  moment  outside  her 
garden  gate,  indulged  at  some  length  in  a 
form  of  profanity  peculiar  to  his  class,  and 
then  walked  direct  to  McGaw's  house. 

That  worthy  Knight  met  him  at  the  door. 
He  had  been  waiting  for  him. 

Young  Billy  McGaw  also  saw  Crimmins 
enter  the  gate,  and  promptly  hid  himself 
under  the  broken-down  steps.  He  hoped  to 
overhear  what  was  going  on  when  the  two 
went  out  again.  Young  Billy's  inordinate 
curiosity  was  quite  natural.  He  had  heard 
enough  of  the  current  talk  about  the  tene- 
ments and  open  lots  to  know  that  something 
of  a  revengeful  and  retaliatory  nature  against 
the  Grogans  was  in  the  air ;  but  as  nobody 
who  knew  the  exact  details  had  confided  them 
33 


TOM  GROGAN 

to  him,  he  had  determined  upon  an  investi- 
gation of  his  own.  He  not  only  hated  Cully, 
but  the  whole  Grogan  household,  for  the 
pounding  he  had  received  at  his  hands,  so  he 
was  anxious  to  get  even  in  some  way. 

After  McGaw  had  locked  both  doors,  shut- 
ting out  his  wife  and  little  Jack,  their  young- 
est, he  took  a  bottle  from  the  shelf,  filled  two 
half-tumblers,  and  squaring  himself  in  his 
chair,  said :  — 

"  Did  ye  see  her,  Crimmy  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  replied  Crimmins,  swallowing  the 
whiskey  at  a  gulp. 

"  An'  she  '11  come  in  wid  us,  will  she  ?  " 

"  She  will,  will  she  ?  She  '11  come  in  nothin'. 
I  jollied  her  about  her  flowers,  and  thought 
I  had  her  dead  ter  rights,  when  she  up  an' 
asked  me  what  we  was  a-goin'  to  do  for  her  if 
she  jined,  an'  afore  I  could  tell  her  she  opens 
the  front  door  and  gives  me  the  dead  cold." 

"  Fired  ye  ? "  exclaimed  McGaw  incredu- 
lously. 

"  I  'm  givin'  it  to  ye  straight,  Dan  ;  an'  she 
pulled  a  gun  on  me,  too,"  —  telling  the  lie 
with  perfect  composure.  "  That  woman  's  no 
slouch,  or  I  don't  know  'em.  One  thing  ye 
can  bet  yer  bottom  dollar  on  —  all  h —  can't 
84 


THE   CONTENTS   OF   CULLY'S   MAIL 

scare  her.  We  Ve  got  to  try  some  other 
way," 

It  was  the  peculiarly  fertile  quality  of 
Crimmins's  imagination  that  made  him  so 
valuable  to  some  of  his  friends. 

When  the  conspirators  reached  the  door, 
neither  Crimmins  nor  his  father  was  in  a 
talkative  mood,  and  Billy  heard  nothing. 
They  lingered  a  moment  on  the  sill,  within 
a  foot  of  his  head  as  he  lay  in  a  cramped 
position  below,  and  then  they  sauntered  out, 
his  father  bareheaded,  to  the  stable  -  yard. 
There  McGaw  leaned  upon  a  cart-wheel, 
listening  dejectedly  to  Crimmins,  who  seemed 
to  be  outlining  a  plan  of  some  kind,  which 
at  intervals  lightened  the  gloom  of  McGaw's 
despair,  judging  from  the  expression  of  his 
father's  face.  Then  he  turned  hurriedly  to 
the  house,  cursed  his  wife  because  he  could 
not  find  his  big  fur  cap,  and  started  across  to 
the  village.  Billy  followed,  keeping  a  safe 
distance  behind. 

Tom  after  Patsy's  sad  experience  forbade 
him  the  streets,  and  never  allowed  him  out  of 
her  sight  unless  Cully  or  her  father  were  with 
him.  She  knew  a  storm  was  gathering,  and 
she  was  watching  the  clouds  and  waiting 
85 


TOM   GROGAN 

for  the  first  patter  of  rain.  When  it  came 
she  intended  that  every  one  of  her  people 
should  be  under  cover.  She  had  sent  for 
Carl  and  her  two  stablemen,  and  told  them 
that  if  they  were  dissatisfied  in  any  way  she 
wanted  to  know  it  at  once.  If  the  wages  she 
was  paying  were  not  enough,  she  was  willing 
to  raise  them,  but  she  wanted  them  distinctly 
to  understand  that  as  she  had  built  up  the 
business  herself,  she  was  the  only  one  who  had 
a  right  to  manage  it,  adding  that  she  would 
rather  clean  and  drive  the  horses  herself  than 
be  dictated  to  by  any  person  outside.  She 
said  that  she  saw  trouble  brewing,  and  knew 
that  her  men  would  feel  it  first.  They  must 
look  out  for  themselves  coming  home  late 
at  night.  At  the  brewery  strike,  two  years 
before,  hardly  a  day  passed  that  some  of  the 
non-union  men  were  not  beaten  into  insensi- 
bility. 

That  night  Carl  came  back  again  to  the 
porch  door,  and  in  his  quiet,  earnest  way  said  : 
"We  have  t'ink  'bout  da  Union.  Da  men 
not  go  —  not  laik  da  union  man.  We  not 
'fraid  "  —  tapping  his  hip-pocket,  where,  sailor- 
like, he  always  carried  his  knife  sheathed  in 
a  leather  case. 

86 


THE  CONTENTS  OF  CULLY'S  MAIL 

Tom's  eyes  kindled  as  she  looked  into  his 
manly  face.  She  loved  pluck  and  grit.  She 
knew  the  color  of  the  blood  running  in  this 
young  fellow's  veins. 

Week  after  week  passed,  and  though  now 
and  then  she  caught  the  mutterings  of  dis- 
tant thunder,  as  Cully  or  some  of  the  others 
overheard  a  remark  on  the  ferry-boat  or  about 
the  post-office,  no  other  signs  of  the  threat- 
ened storm  were  visible. 

Then  it  broke. 

One  morning  an  important-looking  envelope 
lay  in  her  letter-box.  It  was  long  and  puffy, 
and  was  stamped  in  the  upper  corner  with  a 
picture  of  a  brewery  in  full  operation.  One 
end  bore  an  inscription  addressed  to  the 
postmaster,  stating  that  in  case  Mr.  Thomas 
Grogan  was  not  found  within  ten  days,  it 
should  be  returned  to  Schwartz  &  Co.,  Brew- 
ers. 

The  village  post-office  had  several  other 
letter-boxes,  faced  with  glass,  so  that  the  con- 
tents of  each  could  be  seen  from  the  outside. 
Two  of  these  contained  similar  envelopes, 
looking  equally  important,  one  being  ad- 
dressed to  McGaw. 

When  he  had  called  for  his  mail,  the  close 
87 


TOM   GROGAN 

resemblance  between  the  two  envelopes  seen 
in  the  letter-boxes  set  McGaw  to  thinking. 
Actual  scrutiny  through  the  glass  revealed 
the  picture  of  the  brewery  on  each.  He  knew 
then  that  Tom  had  been  asked  to  bid  for  the 
brewery  hauling.  That  night  a  special  meet- 
ing of  the  Union  was  called  at  eight  o'clock. 
Quigg,  Crimmins,  and  McGaw  signed  the 
call. 

"  Hully  gee,  what  a  wad  !  "  said  Cully,  when 
the  postmaster  passed  Tom's  big  letter  out 
to  him.  One  of  Cully's  duties  was  to  go  for 
the  mail. 

When  Pop  broke  the  seal  in  Tom's  pres- 
ence, —  one  of  Pop's  duties  was  to  open  what 
Cully  brought,  —  out  dropped  a  type-written 
sheet  notifying  Mr.  Thomas  Grogan  that 
sealed  proposals  would  be  received  up  to 
March  ist  for  "unloading,  hauling,  and  deliv- 
ering to  the  bins  of  the  Eagle  Brewery  "  so 
many  tons  of  coal  and  malt,  together  with 
such  supplies,  etc.  There  were  also  blank 
forms  in  duplicate  to  be  duly  filled  up  with 
the  price  and  signature  of  the  bidder.  This 
contract  was  given  out  once  a  year.  Twice 
before  it  had  been  awarded  to  Thomas  Gro- 
gan. The  year  before  a  man  from  Stapleton 
88 


THE  CONTENTS  OF  CULLY'S  MAIL 

had  bid  lowest,  and  had  done  the  work.  Mc- 
Gaw  and  his  friends  complained  that  it  took 
the  bread  out  of  Rockville's  mouth ;  but  as 
the  bidder  belonged  to  the  Union,  no  protest 
could  be  made. 

The  morning  after  the  meeting  of  the 
Union,  McGaw  went  to  New  York  by  the 
early  boat.  He  carried  a  letter  from  Pete 
Lathers,  the  yardmaster,  to  Crane  &  Co.,  of 
so  potent  a  character  that  the  coal-dealers 
agreed  to  lend  McGaw  five  hundred  dollars 
on  his  three-months'  note,  taking  a  chattel 
mortgage  on  his  teams  and  carts  as  security, 
the  money  to  be  paid  McGaw  as  soon  as  the 
papers  were  drawn.  McGaw,  in  return,  was 
to  use  his  "pull"  to  get  a  permit  from  the 
village  trustees  for  the  free  use  of  the  village 
dock  by  Crane  &  Co.  for  discharging  their 
Rockville  coal.  This  would  save  Crane  half 
a  mile  to  haul.  It  was  this  promise  made 
by  McGaw  which  really  turned  the  scale  in 
his  favor.  To  hustle  successfully  it  was  often 
necessary  for  Crane  to  cut  some  sharp  cor- 
ners. 

This  dock,  as  McGaw  knew  perfectly  well, 
had  been  leased  to  another  party  —  the  Fer- 
tilizing Company  —  for  two  years,  and  could 
89 


TOM  GROGAN 

not  possibly  be  placed  at  Crane's  disposal. 
But  he  said  nothing  of  this  to  Crane. 

When  the  day  of  payment  to  McGaw  ar- 
rived, Dempsey  of  the  executive  committee 
and  Walking  Delegate  Quigg  met  McGaw  at 
the  ferry  on  his  return  from  New  York. 
McGaw  had  Crane's  money  in  his  pocket. 
That  night  he  paid  two  hundred  dollars  into 
the  Union,  two  hundred  to  his  feed-man  on 
an  account  long  overdue,  and  the  balance  to 
Quigg  in  a  poker  game  in  the  back  room 
over  O'Leary's  bar. 

Tom  also  had  an  interview  with  Mr.  Crane 
shortly  after  his  interview  with  McGaw. 
Something  she  said  about  the  dock  having 
been  leased  to  the  Fertilizing  Company  caused 
Crane  to  leave  his  chair  in  a  hurry,  and  ask 
his  clerk  in  an  angry  voice  if  McGaw  had  yet 
been  paid  the  money  on  his  chattel  mortgage. 
When  his  cashier  showed  him  the  stub  of 
the  check,  dated  two  days  before,  Crane 
slammed  the  door  behind  him,  his  teeth  set 
tight,  little  puffs  of  profanity  escaping  be- 
tween the  openings.  As  he  walked  with 
Tom  to  the  door,  he  said  :  — 

"  Send  your  papers  up,  Tom.  I  '11  go  bond 
any  day  in  the  year  for  you,  and  for  any 
90 


THE  CONTENTS  OF  CULLY'S  MAIL 

amount ;  but  I  '11  get  even  with  McGaw  for 
that  lie  he  told  me  about  the  dock,  if  it  takes 
my  bank  account." 

The  annual  hauling  contract  for  the  brew- 
ery, which  had  become  an  important  one  in 
Rockville,  its  business  having  nearly  doubled 
in  the  last  few  years,  was  of  special  value  to 
Tom  at  this  time,  and  she  determined  to 
make  every  effort  to  secure  it. 

Pop  filled  up  the  proposal  in  his  round, 
clear  hand,  and  Tom  signed  it,  "  Thomas 
Grogan,  Rockville,  Staten  Island."  Then 
Pop  witnessed  it,  and  Mr.  Crane,  a  few  days 
later,  duly  inscribed  the  firm's  name  under 
the  clause  reserved  for  bondsmen.  After 
that  Tom  brought  the  bid  home,  and  laid  it 
on  the  shelf  over  her  bed. 

Everything  was  now  ready  for  the  fight. 

The  bids  were  to  be  opened  at  noon  in  the 
office  of  the  brewery. 

By  eleven  o'clock  the  hangers-on  and  idlers 
began  to  lounge  into  the  big  yard  paved  with 
cobblestones.  At  half  past  eleven  McGaw 
got  out  of  a  buggy,  accompanied  by  Quigg. 
At  a  quarter  to  twelve  Tom,  in  her  hood  and 
ulster,  walked  rapidly  through  the  gate,  and, 
without  as  much  as  a  look  at  the  men  gath- 


TOM   GROGAN 

ered  about  the  office  door,  pushed  her  way 
into  the  room.  Then  she  picked  up  a  chair 
and,  placing  it  against  the  wall,  sat  down. 
Sticking  out  of  the  breast  pocket  of  her  ulster 
was  the  big  envelope  containing  her  bid. 

Five  minutes  before  the  hour  the  men  be- 
gan filing  in  one  by  one,  awkwardly  uncover- 
ing their  heads,  and  standing  in  one  another's 
way.  Some,  using  their  hats  as  screens, 
looked  over  the  rims.  When  the  bids  were 
being  gathered  up  by  the  clerk,  Dennis 
Quigg  handed  over  McGaw's.  The  ease 
with  which  Dan  had  raised  the  money  on 
his  notes  had  invested  that  gentleman  with 
some  of  the  dignity  and  attributes  of  a  capi- 
talist :  the  hired  buggy  and  the  obsequious 
Quigg  indicated  this.  His  new  position  was 
strengthened  by  the  liberal  way  in  which  he 
had  portioned  out  his  possessions  to  the 
workingman.  It  was  further  sustained  by 
the  hope  that  he  might  perhaps  repeat  his 
generosities  in  the  near  future. 

At  twelve  o'clock  precisely  Mr.  Schwartz, 
a  round,  bullet-headed  German,  entered  the 
room,  turned  his  revolving-chair,  and  began 
to  cut  the  six  envelopes  heaped  up  before  him 
on  his  desk,  reading  the  prices  aloud  as  he 
92 


THE   CONTENTS   OF  CULLY'S   MAIL 

opened  them  in  succession,  the  clerk  record- 
ing. The  first  four  were  from  parties  in  out- 
side villages.     Then  came  McGaw's  :  — 

"Forty-nine  cents  for  coal,  etc." 

So  far  he  was  lowest.  Quigg  twisted  his 
hat  nervously,  and  McGaw's  coarse  face  grew 
red  and  white  by  turns. 

Tom's  bid  was  the  last. 

"Thomas  Grogan,  Rockville,  S.  I.,  thirty- 
eight  cents  for  coal,  etc." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Schwartz,  quietly, 
"Thomas  Grogan  gets  the  hauling." 
93 


VIII 

POP    MULLINS'S    ADVICE 

ALMOST  every  man  and  woman  in  the 
tenement  district  knew  Oscar 
Schwartz,  and  had  felt  the  power  of  his  ob- 
stinate hand  during  the  long  strike  of  two 
years  before,  when,  the  Union  having  de- 
clared war,  Schwartz  had  closed  the  brewery 
for  several  months  rather  than  submit  to  its 
dictation.  The  news,  therefore,  that  the 
Union  had  called  a  meeting  and  appointed 
a  committee  to  wait  on  Mr.  Schwartz,  to  pro- 
test against  his  giving  work  to  a  non-union 
woman  filled  them  with  alarm.  The  women 
remembered  the  privations  and  suffering  of 
that  winter,  and  the  three  dollars  a  week 
doled  out  to  them  by  the  Central  Branch, 
while  their  husbands,  who  had  been  earning 
two  and  three  dollars  a  day,  were  drinking 
at  O'Leary's  bar,  playing  cards,  or  listening 
to  the  encouraging  talk  of  the  delegates  who 
came  from  New  York  to  keep  up  their  spir- 
94 


POP   MULLINS'S   ADVICE 

its.  The  brewery  employed  a  larger  number 
of  men  than  any  other  concern  in  Rockville, 
so  trouble  with  its  employees  meant  serious 
trouble  for  half  the  village  if  Schwartz  defied 
the  Union  and  selected  a  non-union  woman 
to  do  the  work. 

They  knew,  too,  something  of  the  indomit- 
able pluck  and  endurance  of  Tom  Grogan. 
If  she  were  lowest  on  the  bids,  she  would 
fight  for  the  contract,  they  felt  sure,  if  it 
took  her  last  dollar.  McGaw  was  a  fool, 
they  said,  to  bid  so  high ;  he  might  have 
known  she  would  cut  his  throat,  and  bring 
them  no  end  of  trouble. 

Having  nursed  their  resentment,  and  need- 
ing a  common  object  for  their  wrath,  the 
women  broke  out  against  Tom.  Many  of 
them  had  disliked  her  ever  since  the  day, 
years  ago,  when  she  had  been  seen  carrying 
her  injured  husband  away  at  night  to  the 
hospital,  after  months  of  nursing  at  home. 
And  the  most  envious  had  always  maintained 
that  she  meant  at  the  time  to  put  him  away 
forever  where  no  one  could  find  him,  so  that 
she  might  play  the  man  herself. 

"  Why  should  she  be  a-comin'  in  an'  a-rob- 
bin'  us  of  our  pay  ? "  muttered  a  coarse,  red- 
95 


TOM   GROGAN 

faced  virago,  her  hair  in  a  frowse  about  her 
head,  her  slatternly  dress  open  at  the  throat. 
"  Oi  '11  be  one  to  go  an'  pull  her  off  the  dock 
and  jump  on  her.  What 's  she  a-doin',  any- 
how, puttin'  down  prices  ?  Ef  her  ole  man 
had  a  leg  to  walk  on,  instid  of  his  lyin'  to-day 
a  cripple  in  the  hospital,  he  'd  be  back  and  be 
a-runnin'  things." 

"  She  's  doin'  what  she  's  a  right  to  do," 
broke  out  Mrs.  Todd  indignantly.  Mrs. 
Todd  was  the  wife  of  the  foreman  at  the 
brewery,  and  an  old  friend  of  Tom's.  Tom 
had  sat  up  with  her  child  only  the  week 
before.  Indeed,  there  were  few  women  in 
the  tenements,  for  all  their  outcry,  who  did 
not  know  how  quick  had  been  her  hand  to 
help  when  illness  came,  or  the  landlord 
threatened  the  sidewalk,  or  the  undertaker 
insisted  on  his  money  in  advance. 

"  It 's  not  Tom  Grogan  that 's  crooked," 
Mrs.  Todd  continued,  "  an'  ye  all  know  it. 
It 's  that  loafer,  Dennis  Quigg,  and  that  old 
sneak,  Crimmins.  They  never  lifted  their 
hands  on  a  decent  job  in  their  lives,  an'  don't 
want  to.  When  my  man  Jack  was  out  of 
work  for  four  months  last  winter,  and  there 
was  n't  a  pail  of  coal  in  the  house,  was  n't 
96 


POP   MULLINS'S  ADVICE 

Quigg  gittin'  his  four  dollars  a  day  for  shoot- 
in'  off  his  mouth  every  night  at  O'Leary's, 
an'  fillin'  the  men's  heads  full  of  capital  and 
rights  ?  An'  Dan  McGaw  's  no  better.  If 
ye  're  out  for  jumpin'  on  people,  Mrs.  Mori- 
arty,  begin  with  Quigg  an'  some  of  the  bum- 
mers as  is  runnin'  the  Union,  an'  as  gits  paid 
whether  the  men  works  or  not." 

"  Bedad,  ye  're  roight,"  said  half  a  dozen 
women,  the  tide  turning  suddenly,  while  the 
excitement  grew  and  spread,  and  other 
women  came  in  from  the  several  smaller  ten- 
ements. 

"  Is  the  trouble  at  the  brewery  ?  "  asked  a 
shrunken-looking  woman,  opening  a  door  on 
the  corridor,  a  faded  shawl  over  her  head. 
She  was  a  new-comer,  and  had  been  in  the 
tenement  only  a  week  or  so  —  not  long 
enough  to  have  the  run  of  the  house  or  to 
know  her  neighbors. 

"Yes;  at  Schwartz's,"  said  Mrs.  Todd, 
stopping  opposite  her  door  on  the  way  to  her 
own  rooms.  "Your  man  's  got  a  job  there, 
ain't  he  ? " 

"He  has,  mum  ;  he's  gateman — the  fust 
job  in  six  months.     Ye  don't  think  they  '11 
make  him  throw  it  up,  do  ye,  mum  ?  " 
97 


TOM  GROGAN 

"  Yes ;  an'  break  his  head  if  he  don't. 
Thet  's  what  they  did  to  my  man  three  years 
gone,  till  he  had  to  come  in  with  the  gang 
and  pay  'em  two  dollars  a  month,"  replied 
Mrs.  Todd. 

"  But  my  man  's  jined,  mum,  a  month  ago ; 
they  would  n't  let  him  work  till  he  did. 
Won't  ye  come  in  an'  set  down  ?  It  's  a 
poor  place  we  have  —  we  've  been  so  long 
without  work,  an'  my  girl 's  laid  off  with  a 
cough.  She 's  been  a-workin'  at  the  box- 
factory.  If  the  Union  give  notice  again,  I 
don't  know  what  '11  become  of  us.  Can't  we 
do  somethin'  ?  Maybe  Mrs.  Grogan  might 
give  up  the  work  if  she  knew  how  it  was  wid 
us.  She  seems  like  a  dacent  woman  ;  she 
was  in  to  look  at  me  girl  last  week,  hearin' 
as  how  we  were  strangers  an'  she  very  bad." 

"  Oh,  ye  don't  know  her.  Ye  can  save  yer 
wind  and  shoe-leather.  She  's  on  ter  McGaw 
red  hot ;  that 's  the  worst  of  it.  He  better 
look  out ;  she  '11  down  him  yet,"  said  Mrs. 
Todd. 

As  the  two  entered  the  stuffy,  close  room 
for  further  discussion,  a  young  girl  left  her 
seat  by  the  window,  and  moved  into  the  ad- 
joining apartment.  She  had  that  yellow, 
98 


POP   MULLINS'S   ADVICE 

waxy  skin,  hollow,  burning  eyes,  and  hectic 
flush  which  tell  the  fatal  story  so  clearly. 

While  the  women  of  the  tenements  were 
cursing  or  wringing  their  hands,  the  men 
were  devoting  themselves  to  more  vigorous 
measures.  A  meeting  was  called  for  nine 
o'clock  at  Lion  Hall. 

It  was  held  behind  closed  doors.  Two 
walking  delegates  from  Brooklyn  were  pres- 
ent, having  been  summoned  by  telegram  the 
night  before,  and  who  were  expected  to  coax 
or  bully  the  weak-kneed,  were  the  ultimatum 
sent  to  Schwartz  refused  and  an  order  for  a 
sympathetic  strike  issued. 

At  the  brewery  all  was  quiet.  Schwartz 
had  read  the  notice  left  on  his  desk  by  the 
committee  the  night  before,  and  had  already 
begun  his  arrangements  to  supply  the  places 
of  the  men  if  a  strike  were  ordered.  When 
pressed  by  Quigg  for  a  reply,  he  said  qui- 
etly :  — 

"The  price  for  hauling  will  be  Grogan's 
bid.     If  she  wants  it,  it  is  hers." 

Tom  talked  the  matter  over  with  Pop,  and 

had  determined  to  buy  another  horse  and  hire 

two  extra  carts.     At  her  price  there  was  a 

margin  of  at  least  ten  cents  a  ton  profit,  and 

99 


TOM   GROGAN 

as  the  work  lasted  through  the  year,  she 
could  adjust  the  hauling  of  her  other  busi- 
ness without  much  extra  expense.  She  dis- 
cussed the  situation  with  no  one  outside  her 
house.  If  Schwartz  wanted  her  to  carry  on 
the  work,  she  would  do  it,  Union  or  no  Union. 
Mr.  Crane  was  on  her  bond.  That  in  itself 
was  a  bracing  factor.  Strong  and  self-reli- 
ant as  she  was,  the  helping  hand  which  this 
man  held  out  to  her  was  like  an  anchor  in  a 
storm. 

That  Sunday  night  they  were  all  gathered 
round  the  kerosene  lamp,  —  Pop  reading, 
Cully  and  Patsy  on  the  floor,  Jennie  listen- 
ing absent-mindedly,  her  thoughts  far  away, 
—  when  there  came  a  knock  at  the  kitchen 
door.     Jennie  flew  to  open  it. 

Outside  stood  two  women.  One  was  Mrs. 
Todd,  the  other  the  haggard,  pinched,  care- 
worn woman  who  had  spoken  to  her  that 
morning  at  her  room-door  in  the  tenement. 

"They  want  to  see  you,  mother,"  said  Jen- 
nie, all  the  light  gone  out  of  her  eyes.  What 
could  be  the  matter  with  Carl,  she  thought. 
It  had  been  this  way  for  a  week. 

"Well,  bring  'em  in.  Hold  on,  I  '11  go 
meself." 


POP   MULLINS'S   ADVICE 

"  She  would  come,  Tom,"  said  Mrs.  Todd, 
unwinding  her  shawl  from  her  head  and 
shoulders;  "an*  ye  mustn't  blame  me,  fer 
it 's  none  of  my  doin's.  Walk  in,  mum  ;  ye 
can  speak  to  her  yerself.  Why,  where  is 
she?"  —  looking  out  of  the  door  into  the 
darkness.  "  Oh,  here  ye  are ;  I  thought  ye  'd 
skipped." 

"  Do  ye  remember  me  ?  "  said  the  woman, 
stepping  into  the  room,  her  gaunt  face  look- 
ing more  wretched  under  the  flickering  light 
of  the  candle  than  it  had  done  in  the  morn- 
ing. "  I  'm  the  new-comer  in  the  tenements. 
Ye  were  in  to  see  my  girl  th'  other  night. 
We're  in  great  trouble." 

"  She 's  not  dead  ? "  said  Tom,  sinking  into 
a  chair. 

"  No,  thank  God  ;  we  've  got  her  still  wid 
us  ;  but  me  man 's  come  home  to-night  nigh 
crazy.  He 's  a-walkin'  the  floor  this  minute, 
an'  so  I  goes  to  Mrs.  Todd,  an'  she  come  wid 
me.  If  he  loses  the  job  now,  we  're  in  the 
street.  Only  two  weeks'  work  since  las'  fall, 
an'  the  girl  gettin'  worse  every  day,  and 
every  cint  in  the  bank  gone,  an'  hardly  a 
chair  lef  in  the  place.  An'  I  says  to  him, 
1 1  '11  go  meself.     She  come  in  to  see  Katie 

IOI 


TOM  GROGAN 

th'  other  night;  she'll  listen  to  me.'  We 
lived  in  Newark,  mum,  an'  had  four  rooms 
and  a  mahogany  sofa  and  two  carpets,  till 
the  strike  come  in  the  clock-factory,  an'  me 
man  had  to  quit  ;  an'  then  all  winter  —  oh, 
we  're  not  used  to  the  likes  of  this  !  "  —  cov- 
ering her  face  with  her  shawl  and  bursting 
into  tears. 

Tom  had  risen  to  her  feet,  her  face  express- 
ing the  deepest  sympathy  for  the  woman, 
though  she  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
cause  of  her  visitor's  distress. 

"  Is  yer  man  fired  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  an'  would  n't  be  if  they  'd  let  him 
alone.  He 's  sober  an'  steady,  an'  never 
tastes  a  drop,  and  brings  his  money  home  to 
me  every  Saturday  night,  and  always  done ; 
an'  now  they  "  — 

"  Well,  what 's  the  matter,  then  ?  "  Tom 
could  not  stand  much  beating  about  the 
bush. 

"  Why,  don't  ye  know  they  've  give  no- 
tice ? "  she  said  in  astonishment ;  then,  as 
a  misgiving  entered  her  mind,  "  Maybe  I  'm 
wrong ;  but  me  man  an'  all  of  'em  tells  me 
ye  're  a-buckin'  ag'in'  Mr.  McGaw,  an'  that 
ye  has  the  haulin'  job  at  the  brewery." 
1 02 


POP   MULLINS'S   ADVICE 

"No,"  said  Tom,  with  emphasis,  "ye 're 
not  wrong ;  ye  're  dead  right.  But  who  's 
give  notice  ? " 

"  The  committee 's  give  notice,  an'  the 
boss  at  the  brewery  says  he  '11  give  ye  the 
job  if  he  has  to  shut  up  the  brewery;  an* 
the  committee 's  decided  to-day  that  if  he 
does  they  '11  call  out  the  men.  My  man  is 
a  member,  and  so  I  come  over "  —  And 
she  rested  her  head  wearily  against  the  door, 
the  tears  streaming  down  her  face. 

Tom  looked  at  her  wonderingly,  and  then, 
putting  her  strong  arms  about  her,  half  car- 
ried her  across  the  kitchen  to  a  chair  by  the 
stove.  Mrs.  Todd  leaned  against  the  table, 
watching  the  sobbing  woman. 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  It  was  a 
new  experience  for  Tom.  Heretofore  the 
fight  had  been  her  own  and  for  her  own. 
She  had  never  supposed  before  that  she  filled 
so  important  a  place  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  for  a  moment  there  flashed  across  her 
mind  a  certain  justifiable  pride  in  the  situa- 
tion. But  this  feeling  was  momentary.  Here 
was  a  suffering  woman.  For  the  first  time 
she  realized  that  one  weaker  than  herself 
might  suffer  in  the  struggle.  What  could 
^3 


TOM   GROGAN 

she  do  to  help  her  ?  This  thought  was  up- 
permost  in  her  mind. 

"  Don't  ye  worry,"  she  said  tenderly. 
"  Schwartz  won't  fire  yer  man." 

"  No ;  but  the  sluggers  will.  There  was 
five  men  'p'inted  to-day  to  do  up  the  scabs 
an'  the  kickers  who  won't  go  out.  They  near 
killed  him  once  in  Newark  for  kickin*.  It 
was  that  time,  you  know,  when  Katie  was 
first  took  bad." 

"  Do  ye  know  their  names  ? "  said  Tom, 
her  eyes  flashing. 

"  No,  an'  me  man  don't.  He  's  new,  an' 
they  dar's  n't  trust  him.  It  was  in  the  back 
room,  he  says,  they  picked  'em  out." 

Tom  stood  for  some  moments  in  deep 
thought,  gazing  at  the  fire,  her  arms  akimbo. 
Then,  wheeling  suddenly,  she  opened  the 
door  of  the  sitting-room,  and  said  in  a  firm, 
resolute  voice :  — 

"  Gran'pop,  come  here  ;  I  want  ye." 

The  old  man  laid  down  his  book,  and  stood 
in  the  kitchen  doorway.  He  was  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, his  spectacles  on  his  forehead. 

"Come  inside  the  kitchen,  an'  shut  that 
door  behind  ye.  Here  's  me  friend  Jane 
Todd  an'  a  friend  of  hers  from  the  tene- 
104 


"  Do  ye  know  their  names?"  said  Tom 


POP  MULLINS'S   ADVICE 

ment.  That  thief  of  a  McGaw  has  stirred  up 
the  Union  over  the  haulin'  bid,  and  they  've 
sent  notice  to  Schwartz  that  I  don't  belong 
to  the  Union,  an'  if  he  don't  throw  me  over 
an'  give  the  job  to  McGaw  they  '11  call  out 
the  men.  If  they  do,  there 's  a  hundred 
women  and  three  times  that  many  children 
that  '11  go  hungry.  This  woman  here  's  got 
a  girl  herself  that  has  n't  drawed  a  well 
breath  for  six  months,  an'  her  man  's  been 
idle  all  winter,  an'  only  just  now  got  a  job  at 
Schwartz's,  tending  gate.  Now,  what  '11  I 
do  ?     Shall  I  chuck  up  the  job  or  stick?" 

The  old  man  looked  into  the  desolate, 
weary  face  of  the  woman  and  then  at  Tom. 
Then  he  said  slowly  :  — 

"Well,  child,  ye  kin  do  widout  it,  an' 
maybe  t'  others  can't."    • 

"  Ye  've  got  it  straight,"  said  Tom ;  "that 's 
just  what  I  think  meself."  Then,  turning  to 
the  stranger :  — 

"  Go  home  and  tell  yer  man  to  go  to  bed. 
I  '11  touch  nothin'  that  '11  break  the  heart 
of  any  woman.  The  job  's  McGaw's.  I  '11 
throw  up  me  bid." 

io5  * 


IX 

WHAT    A    SPARROW    SAW 

EVER  since  the  eventful  morning  when 
Carl  had  neglected  the  Big  Gray  for  a 
stolen  hour  with  Jennie,  Cully  had  busied 
himself  in  devising  ways  of  making  the 
Swede's  life  miserable.  With  a  boy's  keen 
insight,  he  had  discovered  enough  to  con- 
vince him  that  Carl  was  "dead  mashed  on 
Jennie,"  as  he  put  it,  but  whether  "for 
keeps"  or  not  he  had  not  yet  determined. 
He  had  already  enriched  his  songs  with  cer- 
tain tender  allusions  to  their  present  frame 
of  mind  and  their  future  state  of  happiness. 
"  Where  was  Moses  when  the  light  went 
out  ? "  and  "  Little  Annie  Rooney "  had 
undergone  so  subtle  a  change  when  sung  at 
the  top  of  Mr.  James  Finnegan's  voice  that 
while  the  original  warp  and  woof  of  those 
very  popular  melodies  were  entirely  unrecog- 
nizable to  any  but  the  persons  interested,  to 
them  they  were  as  gall  and  wormwood.  This 
1 06 


WHAT   A    SPARROW    SAW 

was  Cully's  invariable  way  of  expressing  his 
opinions  on  current  affairs.  He  would  sit  on 
the  front-board  of  his  cart,  —  the  Big  Gray 
stumbling  over  the  stones  as  he  walked,  the 
reins  lying  loose,  —  and  fill  the  air  with 
details  of  events  passing  in  the  village,  with 
all  the  gusto  of  a  variety  actor.  The  impend- 
ing strike  at  the  brewery  had  been  made  the 
basis  of  a  paraphrase  of  "Johnnie,  get  your 
gun  ;  "  and  even  McGaw's  red  head  had  come 
in  for  its  share  of  abuse  to  the  air  of  "  Fire, 
boys,  fire !  "  So  for  a  time  this  new  devel- 
opment of  tenderness  on  the  part  of  Carl 
for  Jennie  served  to  ring  the  changes  on 
"  Moses  "  and  "Annie  Rooney." 

Carl's  budding  hopes  had  been  slightly 
nipped  by  the  cold  look  in  Tom's  eye  when 
she  asked  him  if  it  took  an  hour  to  give  Jen- 
nie a  tattered  apron.  With  some  disappoint- 
ment he  noticed  that  except  at  rare  intervals, 
and  only  when  Tom  was  at  home,  he  was  no 
longer  invited  to  the  house.  He  had  always 
been  a  timid,  shrinking  fellow  where  a  woman 
was  concerned,  having  followed  the  sea  and 
lived  among  men  since  he  was  sixteen  years 
old.  During  these  earlier  years  he  had  made 
two  voyages  in  the  Pacific,  and  another  to 
107 


TOM   GROGAN 

the  whaling-ground  in  the  Arctic  seas.  On 
this  last  voyage,  in  a  gale  of  wind,  he  had 
saved  all  the  lives  aboard  a  brig,  the  crew 
helpless  from  scurvy.  When  the  lifeboat 
reached  the  lee  of  her  stern,  Carl  at  the  risk 
of  his  life  climbed  aboard,  caught  a  line,  and 
lowered  the  men,  one  by  one,  into  the  rescu- 
ing yawl.  He  could  with  perfect  equanimity 
have  faced  another  storm  and  rescued  a  sec- 
ond crew  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  but 
he  could  not  face  a  woman's  displeasure. 
Moreover,  what  Tom  wanted  done  was  law  to 
Carl.  She  had  taken  him  out  of  the  streets 
and  given  him  a  home.  He  would  serve  her 
in  whatever  way  she  wished  as  long  as  he 
lived. 

He  and  Gran'pop  were  fast  friends.  On 
rainy  days,  or  when  work  was  dull  in  the 
winter  months,  the  old  man  would  often 
come  into  Carl's  little  chamber,  next  the  har- 
ness-room in  the  stable,  and  sit  on  his  bed  by 
the  hour.  And  Carl  would  tell  him  about 
his  people  at  home,  and  show  him  the  pic- 
tures tacked  over  his  bed,  those  of  his  old 
mother  with  her  white  cap,  and  of  the  young 
sister  who  was  soon  to  be  married. 

On  Sundays  Carl  followed  Tom  and  her 
1 08 


WHAT   A   SPARROW   SAW 

family  to  church,  waiting  until  they  had  left 
the  house.  He  always  sat  far  back  near  the 
door,  so  that  he  could  see  them  come  out. 
Then  he  would  overtake  Pop  with  Patsy, 
whenever  the  little  fellow  could  go.  This 
was  not  often,  for  now  there  were  many  days 
when  the  boy  had  to  lie  all  day  on  the  lounge 
in  the  sitting-room,  poring  over  his  books 
or  playing  with  Stumpy,  brought  into  the 
kitchen  to  amuse  him. 

Since  the  day  of  Tom's  warning  look,  Carl 
rarely  joined  her  daughter.  Jennie  would 
loiter  by  the  way,  speaking  to  the  girls,  but 
he  would  hang  back.  He  felt  that  Tom  did 
not  want  them  together. 

One  spring  morning,  however,  a  new  com- 
plication arose.  It  was  a  morning  when  the 
sky  was  a  delicate  violet-blue,  when  the  sun- 
light came  tempered  through  a  tender  land 
haze  and  a  filmy  mist  from  the  still  sea,  when 
all  the  air  was  redolent  with  sweet  smells  of 
coming  spring,  and  all  the  girls  were  gay  in 
new  attire.  Dennis  Quigg  had  been  loun- 
ging outside  the  church  door,  his  silk  hat  and 
green  satin  necktie  glistening  in  the  sun. 
When  Jennie  tripped  out  Quigg  started  for- 
ward. The  look  on  his  face,  as  with  swing- 
109 


TOM   GROGAN 

ing  shoulders  he  slouched  beside  her,  sent  a 
thrill  of  indignation  through  Carl.  He  could 
give  her  up,  perhaps,  if  Tom  insisted,  but 
never  to  a  man  like  Quigg.  Before  the  walk- 
ing delegate  had  "passed  the  time  of  day," 
the  young  sailor  was  close  beside  Jennie, 
within  touch  of  her  hand. 

There  was  no  love  lost  between  the  two 
men.  Carl  had  not  forgotten  the  proposi- 
tion Quigg  had  made  to  him  to  leave  Tom's 
employ,  nor  had  Quigg  forgotten  the  uplifted 
shovel  with  which  his  proposal  had  been 
greeted.  Yet  there  was  no  well-defined 
jealousy  between  them.  Mr.  Walking  Dele- 
gate Dennis  Quigg,  confidential  agent  of 
Branch  No.  3,  Knights  of  Labor,  had  too 
good  an  opinion  of  himself  ever  to  look  upon 
that  "tow-headed  duffer  of  a  stable-boy"  in 
the  light  of  a  rival.  Nor  could  Carl  for  a 
moment  think  of  that  narrow-chested,  red- 
faced,  flashily  dressed  Knight  as  being  able 
to  make  the  slightest  impression  on  "  Mees 
Jan." 

Quigg,  however,  was  more  than  welcome 

to  Jennie  to-day.     A  little  sense  of  wounded 

pride  sent  the  hot  color  to  her  cheeks  when 

she  thought  of  Carl's  apparent  neglect.     He 

no 


WHAT   A   SPARROW    SAW 

had  hardly  spoken  to  her  in  weeks.  What 
had  she  done  that  he  should  treat  her  so  ? 
She  would  show  him  that  there  were  just  as 
good  fellows  about  as  Mr.  Carl  Nilsson. 

But  all  this  faded  out  when  Carl  joined 
her  —  Carl,  so  straight,  clear-skinned,  brown, 
and  ruddy ;  his  teeth  so  white ;  his  eyes  so 
blue !  She  could  see  out  of  the  corner  of 
her  eye  how  the  hair  curled  in  tiny  rings  on 
his  temples. 

Still  it  was  to  Quigg  she  talked.  And 
more  than  that,  she  gave  him  her  prayer- 
book  to  carry  until  she  fixed  her  glove  —  the 
glove  that  needed  no  fixing  at  all.  And  she 
chattered  on  about  the  dance  at  the  boat 
club,  and  the  picnic  which  was  to  come  off 
when  the  weather  grew  warmer. 

And  Carl  walked  silent  beside  her,  with 
his  head  up  and  his  heart  down,  and  the 
tears  very  near  his  eyes. 

When  they  reached  the  outer  gate  of  the 
stable-yard,  and  Quigg  had  slouched  off  with- 
out even  raising  his  hat,  —  the  absence  of  all 
courtesy  stands  in  a  certain  class  for  a  mark 
of  higher  respect,  —  Carl  swung  back  the 
gate,  and  held  it  open  for  her  to  pass  in. 
Jennie  loitered  for  a  moment.  There  was  a 
in 


TOM  GROGAN 

look  in  Carl's  face  she  had  not  seen  before. 
She  had  not  meant  to  hurt  him,  she  said  to 
herself. 

"What  mak'  you  no  lak  me  anna  more, 
Mees  Jan  ?  I  big  annough  to  carry  da  buke," 
said  Carl. 

"  Why,  how  you  talk,  Carl !  I  never  said 
such  a  word,"  said  Jennie,  leaning  over  the 
fence,  her  heart  fluttering. 

The  air  was  soft  as  a  caress.  Opal-tinted 
clouds  with  violet  shadows  sailed  above  the 
low  hills.  In  the  shade  of  the  fence  dande- 
lions had  burst  into  bloom.  From  a  bush 
near  by  a  song-sparrow  flung  a  note  of  spring 
across  the  meadow. 

"  Well,  you  nev'  cam'  to  stable  anna  more, 
Mees  Jan,"  Carl  said  slowly,  in  a  tender, 
pleading  tone,  his  gaze  on  her  face. 

The  girl  reached  through  the  fence  for  the 
golden  flower.  She  dared  not  trust  herself 
to  look.  She  knew  what  was  in  her  lover's 
eyes. 

"I  get  ta  flower,"  said  Carl,  vaulting  the 
fence  with  one  hand. 

"  No ;  please  don't  trouble.  Oh,  Carl !  " 
she  exclaimed  suddenly.  "  The  horrid  brier ! 
My  hand  's  all  scratched  ! " 

112 


WHAT  A   SPARROW   SAW 

"  Ah,  Mees  Jan,  I  so  sorry !  Let  Carl 
see  it,"  he  said,  his  voice  melting.  "  I  tak' 
ta  brier  out,"  pushing  back  the  tangled  vines 
of  last  year  to  bring  himself  nearer. 

The  clouds  sailed  on.  The  sparrow  stood 
on  its  tallest  toes  and  twisted  its  little  neck. 

"  Oh,  please  do,  Carl,  it  hurts  so  !  "  she 
said,  laying  her  little  round  hand  in  the  big, 
strong,  horny  palm  that  had  held  the  life-line 
the  night  of  the  wreck. 

The  song-sparrow  clung  to  the  swaying 
top  of  a  mullein-stalk  near  by,  and  poured 
out  a  strong,  swelling,  joyous  song  that  well- 
nigh  split  its  throat. 

When  Tom  called  Jennie,  half  an  hour 
later,  she  and  Carl  were  still  talking  across 
the  fence. 

ri3 


CULLY    WINS    BY   A    NECK 

ABOUT  this  time  the  labor  element  in 
the  village  and  vicinity  was  startled 
by  an  advertisement  in  the  Rockville  "Daily 
News,"  signed  by  the  clerk  of  the  Board  of 
Village  Trustees,  notifying  contractors  that 
thirty  days  thereafter,  closing  at  nine  p.  m. 
precisely,  separate  sealed  proposals  would  be 
received  at  the  meeting-room  of  the  board, 
over  the  post-office,  for  the  hauling  of  twenty 
thousand  cubic  yards  of  fine  crushed  stone 
for  use  on  the  public  highways ;  bidders 
would  be  obliged  to  give  suitable  bonds,  etc. ; 
certified  check  for  five  hundred  dollars  to 
accompany  each  bid  as  guaranty,  etc. 

The  news  was  a  grateful  surprise  to  the 
workingmen.  The  hauling  and  placing  of  so 
large  an  amount  of  material  as  soon  as  spring 
opened  meant  plenty  of  work  for  many  shov- 
elers  and  pickers.  The  local  politicians,  of 
course,  had  known  all  about  it  for  weeks; 
114 


CULLY   WINS   BY   A   NECK 

especially  those  who  owned  property  front- 
ing on  the  streets  to  be  improved:  they 
had  helped  the  appropriation  through  the 
finance  committee.  McGaw,  too,  had  known 
about  it  from  the  first  day  of  its  discussion 
before  the  board.  Those  who  were  inside 
the  ring  had  decided  then  that  he  would 
be  the  best  man  to  haul  the  stone.  The 
"steal,"  they  knew,  could  best  be  arranged 
in  the  tally  of  the  carts  —  the  final  check 
on  the  scow  measurement.  They  knew  that 
McGaw's  accounts  could  be  controlled,  and 
the  total  result  easily  "fixed."  The  stone 
itself  had  been  purchased  of  the  manufac- 
turers the  year  before,  but  there  were  not 
funds  enough  to  put  it  on  the  roads  at  that 
time. 

Here,  then,  was  McGaw's  chance.  His 
triumph  at  obtaining  the  brewery  contract 
was  but  short-lived.  Schwartz  had  given 
him  the  work,  but  at  Tom's  price,  not  at  his 
own.  McGaw  had  accepted  it,  hoping  for 
profits  that  would  help  him  with  his  chattel 
mortgage.  After  he  had  been  at  work  for 
a  month,  however,  he  found  that  he  ran  be- 
hind. He  began  to  see  that,  in  spite  of  its 
boastings,  the  Union  had  really  done  nothing 
IJ5 


TOM   GROGAN 

for  him,  except  indirectly  with  its  threatened 
strike.  The  Union,  on  the  other  hand,  in- 
sisted that  it  had  been  McGaw's  business  co 
arrange  his  own  terms  with  Schwartz.  What 
it  had  done  was  to  kill  Grogan  as  a  competi- 
tor, and  knock  her  non-union  men  out  of  the 
job.     This  ended  its  duty. 

While  they  said  this  much  to  McGaw, 
so  far  as  outsiders  could  know,  the  Union 
claimed  that  they  had  scored  a  brilliant  vic- 
tory. The  Brooklyn  and  New  York  branches 
duly  paraded  it  as  another  triumph  over  capi- 
tal, and  their  bank  accounts  were  accordingly 
increased  with  new  dues  and  collections. 

With  this  new  contract  in  his  possession, 
McGaw  felt  certain  he  could  cancel  his  debt 
with  Crane  and  get  even  with  the  world. 
He  began  his  arrangements  at  once.  Police- 
Justice  Rowan,  the  prospective  candidate  for 
the  Assembly,  who  had  acquired  some  landed 
property  by  the  purchase  of  expired  tax  titles, 
agreed  to  furnish  the  certified  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars  and  to  sign  McGaw's  bond 
for  a  consideration  to  be  subsequently  agreed 
upon.  A  brother  of  Rowan's,  a  contractor, 
who  was  finishing  some  grading  at  Quaran- 
tine Landing,  had  also  consented,  for  a  con- 
116 


CULLY   WINS    BY   A   NECK 

sideration,  to  loan  McGaw  what  extra  teams 
he  required. 

The  size  of  the  contract  was  so  great,  and 
the  deposit  check  and  bond  were  so  large, 
that  McGaw  concluded  at  once  that  the  com- 
petition would  be  narrowed  down  between 
himself  and  Rowan's  brother,  with  Justice 
Rowan  as  backer,  and  perhaps  one  other  firm 
from  across  the  island,  near  New  Brighton. 
His  own  advantage  over  other  bidders  was 
in  his  living  on  the  spot,  with  his  stables  and 
teams  near  at  hand. 

Tom,  he  felt  assured,  was  out  of  the  way. 
Not  only  was  the  contract  very  much  too 
large  for  her,  requiring  twice  as  many  carts 
as  she  possessed,  but  now  that  the  spring 
work  was  about  to  begin,  and  Babcock's  sea- 
wall work  to  be  resumed,  she  had  all  the 
stevedoring  she  could  do  for  her  own  cus- 
tomers, without  going  outside  for  additional 
business. 

Moreover,  she  had  apparently  given  up  the 
fight,  for  she  had  bid  on  no  work  of  any 
kind  since  the  morning  she  had  called  upon 
Schwartz  and  told  him,  in  her  blunt,  frank 
way,  "  Give  the  work  to  McGaw  at  me  price. 
It 's  enough  and  fair." 
"7 


TOM   GROGAN 

Tom,  meanwhile,  made  frequent  visits  to 
New  York,  returning  late  at  night.  One  day 
she  brought  home  a  circular  with  cuts  of  sev- 
eral improved  kinds  of  hoisting-engines  with 
automatic  dumping-buckets.  She  showed 
them  to  Pop  under  the  kerosene  lamp  at 
night,  explaining  to  him  their  advantages  in 
handling  small  material  like  coal  or  broken 
stone.  Once  she  so  far  relaxed  her  rules  in 
regard  to  Jennie's  lover  as  to  send  for  Carl 
to  come  to  the  house  after  supper,  question- 
ing him  closely  about  the  upper  rigging  of  a 
new  derrick  she  had  seen.  Carl's  experience 
as  a  sailor  was  especially  valuable  in  matters 
of  this  kind.  He  could  not  only  splice  a 
broken  "fall,"  and  repair  the  sheaves  and 
friction-rollers  in  a  hoisting-block,  but  when- 
ever the  rigging  got  tangled  aloft  he  could 
spring  up  the  derrick  like  a  cat  and  unreeve 
the  rope  in  an  instant.  She  also  wrote  to 
Babcock,  asking  him  to  stop  at  her  house 
some  morning  on  his  way  to  the  Quarantine 
Landing,  where  he  was  building  a  retaining- 
wall ;  and  when  he  arrived,  she  took  him  out 
to  the  shed  where  she  kept  her  heavy  der- 
ricks. That  more  experienced  contractor  at 
once  became  deeply  interested,  and  made  a 
118 


CULLY   WINS   BY   A   NECK 

series  of  sketches  for  her,  on  the  back  of  an 
envelope,  of  an  improved  pintle  and  revolving- 
cap  which  he  claimed  would  greatly  improve 
the  working  of  her  derricks.  These  sketches 
she  took  to  the  village  blacksmith  next  day, 
and  by  that  night  had  an  estimate  of  their 
cost.  She  was  also  seen  one  morning,  when 
the  new  trolley  company  got  rid  of  its  old 
stock,  at  a  sale  of  car-horses,  watching  the 
prices  closely,  and  examining  the  condition 
of  the  animals  sold.  She  asked  the  superin- 
tendent to  drop  her  a  postal  when  the  next 
sale  occurred.  To  her  neighbors,  however, 
and  even  to  her  own  men,  she  said  nothing. 
The  only  man  in  the  village  to  whom  she 
had  spoken  regarding  the  new  work  was  the 
clerk  of  the  board,  and  then  only  casually  as 
to  the  exact  time  when  the  bids  would  be 
received. 

The  day  before  the  eventful  night  when 
the  proposals  were  to  be  opened,  Mr.  Crane, 
in  his  buggy,  stopped  at  her  house  on  his  way 
back  from  the  fort,  and  they  drove  together 
to  the  ferry.  When  she  returned  she  called 
Pop  into  the  kitchen,  shut  the  door,  and 
showed  him  the  bid  duly  signed  and  a  slip 
of  pink  paper.  This  was  a  check  of  Crane 
119 


TOM  GROGAN 

&  Co.'s  to  be  deposited  with  the  bid.  Then 
she  went  down  to  the  stable  and  had  a  long 
conference  with  Cully. 

The  village  Board  of  Trustees  consisted 
of  nine  men,  representing  a  fair  average  of 
the  intelligence  and  honesty  of  the  people. 
The  president  was  a  reputable  hardware  mer- 
chant, a  very  good  citizen,  who  kept  a  store 
largely  patronized  by  local  contractors.  The 
other  members  were  two  lawyers,  —  young 
men  working  up  in  practice  with  the  assist- 
ance of  a  political  pull,  —  a  veterinary  sur- 
geon, and  five  gentlemen  of  leisure,  whose 
only  visible  means  of  support  were  derived 
from  pool-rooms  and  ward  meetings.  Every 
man  on  the  board,  except  the  surgeon  and 
the  president,  had  some  particular  axe  to 
grind.  One  wished  to  be  sheriff;  another, 
county  clerk.  The  five  gentlemen  of  leisure 
wished  to  stay  where  they  were.  When  a 
pie  was  cut,  these  five  held  the  knife.  It 
was  their  fault,  they  said,  when  they  went 
hungry. 

In  the  side  of  this  body  politic  the  sur- 
geon was  a  thorn  as  sharp  as  any  one  of 
his  scalpels.  He  was  a  hard-headed,  sober- 
minded  Scotchman,  who  had  been  elected 
120 


CULLY   WINS   BY   A   NECK 

to  represent  a  group  of  his  countrymen  liv- 
ing in  the  eastern  part  of  the  village,  and 
whose  profession,  the  five  supposed,  indicated 
without  doubt  his  entire  willingness  to  see 
through  a  cart-wheel,  especially  when  the  hub 
was  silver-plated.  At  the  first  meeting  of 
the  board  they  learned  their  mistake,  but  it 
did  not  worry  them  much.  They  had  seven 
votes  to  two. 

The  council-chamber  of  the  board  was  a 
hall  —  large  for  Rockville  —  situated  over  the 
post-office,  and  only  two  doors  from  O'Leary's 
barroom.  It  was  the  ordinary  village  hall, 
used  for  everything  from  a  Christmas  festi- 
val to  a  prize-fight.  In  summer  it  answered 
for  a  skating-rink. 

Once  a  month  the  board  occupied  it.  On 
these  occasions  a  sort  of  rostrum  was  brought 
in  for  the  president,  besides  a  square  table  and 
a  dozen  chairs.  These  were  placed  at  one 
end,  and  were  partitioned  off  by  a  wooden 
rail  to  form  an  inclosure,  outside  of  which 
always  stood  the  citizens.  On  the  wall  hung 
a  big  eight-day  clock.  Over  the  table,  about 
which  were  placed  chairs,  a  kerosene  lamp 
swung  on  a  brass  chain.  Opposite  each  seat 
lay  a  square  of  blotting-paper  and  some  cheap 

121 


TOM   GROGAN 

pens  and  paper.  Down  the  middle  of  the 
table  were  three  inkstands,  standing  in  china 
plates. 

The  board  always  met  in  the  evening, 
as  the  business  hours  of  the  members  pre- 
vented their  giving  the  day  to  their  deliber- 
ations. 

Upon  the  night  of  the  letting  of  the  con- 
tract the  first  man  to  arrive  was  McGaw.  He 
ran  up  the  stairs  hurriedly,  found  no  one  he 
was  looking  for,  and  returned  to  O'Leary's, 
where  he  was  joined  by  Justice  Rowan  and 
his  brother  John,  the  contractor,  Quigg,  Crim* 
mins,  and  two  friends  of  the  Union.  During 
the  last  week  the  Union  was  outspoken  in 
its  aid  of  McGaw,  and  its  men  had  quietly 
passed  the  word  of  "  Hands  off  this  job ! " 
about  in  the  neighborhood.  If  McGaw  got 
the  work  — and  there  was  now  not  the  slight- 
est doubt  of  it  —  he  would,  of  course,  em- 
ploy all  Union  men.  If  anybody  else  got 
it  —  well,  they  would  attend  to  him  later. 
"  One  thing  was  certain  :  no  '  scab '  from 
New  Brighton  should  come  over  and  take 
it."  They'd  do  up  anybody  who  tried  that 
game. 

When  McGaw,  surrounded  by  his  friends, 

122 


CULLY   WINS   BY   A  NECK 

entered  the  board-room  again,  the  place  was 
full.  Outside  the  rail  stood  a  solid  mass  of 
people.  Inside  every  seat  was  occupied.  It 
was  too  important  a  meeting  for  any  trustee 
to  miss. 

McGaw  stood  on  his  toes  and  looked  over 
the  heads.  To  his  delight,  Tom  was  not  in 
the  room,  and  no  one  representing  her.  If  he 
had  had  any  lingering  suspicion  of  her  bid- 
ding, her  non-appearance  allayed  it.  He  knew 
now  that  she  was  out  of  the  race.  Moreover, 
no  New  Brighton  people  had  come.  He  whis- 
pered this  information  to  Justice  Rowan's 
brother  behind  his  big,  speckled  hand  covered 
with  its  red,  spidery  hair.  Then  the  two 
forced  their  way  out  again,  reentered  the 
post-office,  and  borrowed  a  pen.  Once  there, 
McGaw  took  from  his  side  pocket  two  large 
envelopes,  the  contents  of  which  he  spread 
out  under  the  light. 

"I'm  dead  roight,"  said  McGaw.  "I'll 
put  up  the  price  of  this  other  bid.  There 
ain't  a  man  round  here  that  dares  show  his 
head.     The  Union  's  fixed  'em." 

"  Will  the  woman  bid  ? "  asked  his  com- 
panion. 

"  The  woman  !  What  'd  she  be  a-doin'  wid 
123 


TOM   GROGAN 

a  bid  loike  that?  She  c'u'dn't  handle  the 
half  of  it.  I  '11  wait  till  a  few  minutes  to  nine 
o'clock.  Ye  kin  fix  up  both  these  bids  an'  hold 
'era  in  yer  pocket.  Thin  we  kin  see  what  bids 
is  laid  on  the  table.  Ours  '11  go  in  last.  If 
there  's  nothin'  else  we  '11  give  'em  the  high 
one.  I  '11  git  inside  the  rail,  so  's  to  be  near 
the  table." 

When  the  two  squeezed  back  through  the 
throng  again  into  the  board-room,  even  the 
staircase  was  packed.  McGaw  pulled  off  his 
fur  cap  and  struggled  past  the  rail,  bowing 
to  the  president.  The  justice's  brother  stood 
outside,  within  reach  of  McGaw's  hand.  Mc- 
Gaw glanced  at  the  clock  and  winked  com- 
placently at  his  prospective  partner  —  not  a 
single  bid  had  been  handed  in.  Then  he 
thrust  out  his  long  arm,  took  from  Rowan's 
brother  the  big  envelope  containing  the  higher 
bid,  and  dropped  it  on  the  table. 

Just  then  there  was  a  commotion  at  the 
door.  Somebody  was  trying  to  force  a  pas- 
sage in.  The  president  rose  from  his  chair, 
and  looked  over  the  crowd.  McGaw  started 
from  his  chair,  looked  anxiously  at  the  clock, 
then  at  his  partner.  The  body  of  a  boy 
struggling  like  an  eel  worked  its  way  through 
124 


CULLY   WINS   BY   A   NECK 

the  mass,  dodged  under  the  wooden  bar,  and 
threw  an  envelope  on  the  table. 

"  Dat  's  Tom  Grogan's  bid,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  the  president,  "  Hully  gee  !  but  dat 
was  a  close  shave !  She  telled  me  not  ter 
dump  it  till  one  minute  o'  nine,  an'  de  bloke 
at  de  door  come  near  sp'ilin'  de  game  till  I 
give  him  one  in  de  mug." 

At  this  instant  the  clock  struck  nine,  and 
the  president's  gavel  fell. 

"Time's  up,"  said  the  Scotchman. 
125 


XI 

A    TWO-DOLLAR    BILL 

THE  excitement  over  the  outcome  of  the 
bidding  was  intense.  The  barroom 
at  O'Leary's  was  filled  with  a  motley  crowd 
of  men,  most  of  whom  belonged  to  the  Union, 
and  all  of  whom  had  hoped  to  profit  in  some 
way  had  the  contract  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  political  ring  who  were  dominating  the 
affairs  of  the  village.  The  more  hot-headed 
and  outspoken  swore  vengeance,  not  only 
against  the  horse-doctor,  who  had  refused  to 
permit  McGaw  to  smuggle  in  the  second 
bid,  but  against  Crane  &  Co.  and  everybody 
else  who  had  helped  to  defeat  their  schemes. 
They  meant  to  boycott  Crane  before  to- 
morrow night.  He  should  not  unload  or 
freight  another  cargo  of  coal  until  they 
allowed  it.  The  village  powers,  they  ad- 
mitted, could  not  be  boycotted,  but  they 
would  do  everything  they  could  to  make  it 
uncomfortable  for  the  board  if  it  awarded 
126 


A    TWO-DOLLAR   BILL 

the  contract  to  Grogan.  Neither  would  they 
forget  the  trustees  at  the  next  election.  As 
to  that  "smart  Alec"  of  a  horse-doctor,  they 
knew  how  to  fix  him.  Suppose  it  had  struck 
nine  and  the  polls  had  closed,  what  right  had 
he  to  keep  McGaw  from  handing  in  his 
other  bid  ?  (Both  were  higher  than  Tom's. 
This  fact,  however,  McGaw  had  never  men- 
tioned.) 

Around  the  tenements  the  interest  was 
no  less  marked.  Mr.  Moriarty  had  sent 
the  news  of  Tom's  success  ringing  through 
O'Leary's,  and  Mrs.  Moriarty,  waiting  out- 
side the  barroom  door  for  the  pitcher  her 
husband  had  filled  for  her  inside,  had  spread 
its  details  through  every  hallway  in  the 
tenement. 

"  Ah,  but  Tom  's  a  keener,"  said  that  gos- 
sip. "  Think  of  that  little  divil  Cully  jammed 
behind  the  door  with  her  bid  in  his  hand, 
a-waitin'  for  the  clock  to  get  round  to  two 
minutes  o'  nine,  an'  that  big  stuff  Dan 
McGaw  sittin'  inside  wid  two  bids  up  his 
sleeve !  Oh,  but  she 's  cunnin',  she  is ! 
Dan  's  clean  beat.  He  '11  niver  haul  a  shovel 
o*  that  stone." 

"How '11  she  be  a-doin'  a  job  like  that  ?  " 
127 


TOM   GROGAN 

came  from  a  woman  listening  over  the  ban- 
isters. 

"  Be  dohV  ?  "  rejoined  a  red-headed  virago. 
"  Would  n't  ye  be  doin'  it  yerself  if  ye  had 
that  big  coal-dealer  behind  ye  ?" 

"  Oh,  we  hear  enough.  Who  says  they  're 
in  it  ? "  rejoined  a  third  listener. 

"Pete  Lathers  says  so  —  the  yard  boss. 
He  was  a-tellin'  me  man  yisterday." 

On  consulting  Justice  Rowan  the  next 
morning,  McGaw  and  his  friends  found  but 
little  comfort.  The  law  was  explicit,  the 
justice  said.  The  contract  must  be  given  to 
the  lowest  responsible  bidder.  Tom  had 
deposited  her  certified  check  of  five  hundred 
dollars  with  the  bid,  and  there  was  no  infor- 
mality in  her  proposal.  He  was  sorry  for 
McGaw,  but  if  Mrs.  Grogan  signed  the  con- 
tract there  was  no  hope  for  him.  The  horse- 
doctor's  action  was  right.  If  McGaw's  sec- 
ond bid  had  been  received,  it  would  simply 
have  invalidated  both  of  his,  the  law  forbid- 
ding two  from  the  same  bidder. 

Rowan's  opinion   sustaining  Tom's    right 

was  a  blow  he  did  not  expect.    Furthermore, 

the  justice  offered  no  hope  for  the  future. 

The  law  gave  Tom  the  award,  and  nothing 

128 


A   TWO-DOLLAR   BILL 

could  prevent  her  hauling  the  stone  if  she 
signed  the  contract.  These  words  rang  in 
McGaw's  ears  —  if  she  signed  the  contract. 
On  this  if  hung  his  only  hope. 

Rowan  was  too  shrewd  a  politician,  now 
that  McGaw's  chances  were  gone,  to  advise 
any  departure,  even  by  a  hair-line,  from  the 
strict  letter  of  the  law.  He  was,  moreover, 
too  upright  as  a  justice  to  advise  any  mem- 
ber of  the  defeated  party  to  an  overt  act 
which  might  look  like  unfairness  to  any  bid- 
der concerned.  He  had  had  a  talk,  besides, 
with  his  brother  over  night,  and  they  had 
accordingly  determined  to  watch  events. 
Should  a  way  be  found  of  rejecting  on  legal 
grounds  Tom's  bid,  making  a  new  advertise- 
ment necessary,  Rowan  meant  to  ignore 
McGaw  altogether,  and  have  his  brother  bid 
in  his  own  name.  This  determination  was 
strengthened  when  McGaw,  in  a  burst  of 
confidence,  told  Rowan  of  his  present  finan- 
cial straits. 

From  Rowan's  the  complaining  trio  ad- 
journed to  O'Leary's  barroom.  Crimmins 
and  McGaw  entered  first.  Quigg  arrived 
later.  He  closed  one  eye  meaningly  as  he 
entered,  and  O'Leary  handed  a  brass  key  to 
129 


TOM    GROGAN 

him  over  the  bar  with  the  remark,  "  Stamp 
on  the  floor  three  toimes,  Dinny,  an'  I  '11 
send  yez  up  what  ye  want  to  drink."  Then 
Crimmins  opened  a  door  concealed  by  a 
wooden  screen,  and  the  three  disappeared  up- 
stairs. Crimmins  reappeared  within  an  hour, 
and  hurried  out  the  front  door.  In  a  few 
moments  he  returned  with  Justice  Rowan, 
who  had  adjourned  court.  Immediately  after 
the  justice's  arrival  there  came  three  raps 
from  the  floor  above,  and  O'Leary  swung 
back  the  door,  and  disappeared  with  an  assort- 
ment of  drinkables  on  a  tray. 

The  conference  lasted  until  noon.  Then 
the  men  separated  outside  the  barroom. 
From  the  expression  on  the  face  of  each  one 
as  he  emerged  from  the  door  it  was  evident 
that  the  meeting  had  not  produced  any  very 
cheering  or  conclusive  results.  McGaw  had 
that  vindictive,  ugly,  bulldog  look  about  the 
eyes  and  mouth  which  always  made  his  wife 
tremble  when  he  came  home.  The  result  of 
the  present  struggle  over  the  contract  was 
a  matter  of  life  or  death  to  him.  His  notes, 
secured  by  the  chattel  mortgage  on  his  live 
stock,  would  be  due  in  a  few  days.  Crane 
had  already  notified  him  that  they  must  be 
130 


A   TWO-DOLLAR   BILL 

paid,  and  he  knew  enough  of  his  money- 
lender, and  of  the  anger  which  he  had  roused, 
to  know  that  no  extension  would  be  granted 
him.  Losing  this  contract,  he  had  lost  his 
only  hope  of  paying  them.  Had  it  been 
awarded  him,  he  could  have  found  a  dozen 
men  who  would  have  loaned  him  the  money 
to  take  up  these  notes  and  so  to  pay  Crane. 
He  had  comforted  himself  the  night  before 
with  the  thought  that  Justice  Rowan  could 
find  some  way  to  help  him  out  of  his  di- 
lemma; that  the  board  would  vote  as  the 
justice  advised,  and  then,  of  course,  Tom's 
bid  would  be  invalidated.  Now  even  this 
hope  had  failed  him.  "  Whoever  heard  of  a 
woman's  doing  a  job  for  a  city?"  he  kept 
repeating  mechanically  to  himself. 

Tom  knew  of  none  of  these  conspiracies. 
Had  she  done  so  they  would  not  have  caused 
her  a  moment's  anxiety.  Here  was  a  fight 
in  which  no  one  would  suffer  except  the  head 
that  got  in  her  way,  and  she  determined  to 
hit  that  with  all  her  might  the  moment  it 
rose  into  view.  This  was  no  brewery  con- 
tract, she  argued  with  Pop,  where  five  hun- 
dred men  might  be  thrown  out  of  employ- 
ment, with  all  the  attendant  suffering  to 
131 


TOM   GROGAN 

women  and  children.  The  village  was  a 
power  nobody  could  boycott.  Moreover,  the 
law  protected  her  in  her  rights  under  the 
award.  She  would  therefore  quietly  wait 
until  the  day  for  signing  the  papers  arrived, 
furnish  her  bond,  and  begin  a  work  she 
could  superintend  herself.  In  the  mean 
time  she  would  continue  her  preparations. 
One  thing  she  was  resolved  upon  —  she 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Union. 
Carl  could  lay  his  hand  on  a  dozen  of  his 
countrymen  who  would  be  glad  to  get  em- 
ployment with  her.  If  they  were  all  like  him 
she  need  have  no  fear  in  any  emergency. 

She  bought  two  horses  —  great  strong  ones, 
—  at  the  trolley  sale,  and  ordered  two  new 
carts  from  a  manufacturer  in  Newark,  to  be 
sent  to  her  on  the  first  of  the  coming  month. 

Her  friends  took  her  good  fortune  less 
calmly.  Their  genuine  satisfaction  expressed 
itself  in  a  variety  of  ways.  Crane  sent  her 
this  characteristic  telegram  :  — 

"  Bully  for  you  !  " 

Babcock  came  all  the  way  down  to  her 
home  to  offer  her  his  congratulations,  and  to 
tender  her  what  assistance  she  needed  in 
tools  or  money. 

132 


A   TWO-DOLLAR   BILL 

The  Union,  in  their  deliberations,  insisted 
that  it  was  the  "  raised  bid "  which  had 
ruined  the  business  with  McGaw  and  for 
them.  It  was  therefore  McGaw' s  duty  to 
spare  no  effort  to  prevent  her  signing  the 
contract.  They  had  stuck  by  him  in  times 
gone  by  ;  he  must  now  stick  by  them.  One 
point  was  positively  insisted  upon :  Union 
men  must  be  employed  on  the  work,  whoever 
got  it. 

McGaw,  however,  was  desperate.  He  de- 
nounced Tom  in  a  vocabulary  peculiar  to 
himself  and  full  of  innuendoes  and  oaths,  but 
without  offering  any  suggestion  as  to  how  his 
threats  against  her  might  be  carried  out. 

With  his  usual  slyness,  Quigg  said  very  lit- 
tle openly.  He  had  not  yet  despaired  of 
winning  Jennie's  favor,  and  until  that  hope 
was  abandoned  he  could  hardly  make  up  his 
mind  which  side  of  the  fence  he  was  on. 
Crimmins  was  even  more  indifferent  in  regard 
to  the  outcome  —  his  pay  as  walking  delegate 
went  on,  whichever  side  won ;  he  could  wait. 

In  this  emergency  McGaw  again  sought 
Crimmins's  assistance.  He  urged  the  impor- 
tance of  his  getting  the  contract,  and  he 
promised  to  make  Crimmins  foreman  on  the 
*3Z 


TOM  GROGAN 

street,  and  to  give  him  a  share  in  the  profits, 
if  he  would  help  him  in  some  way  to  get  the 
work  now.  The  first  step,  he  argued,  was 
the  necessity  of  crushing  Tom.  Everything 
else  would  be  easy  after  that.  Such  a  task, 
he  felt,  would  not  be  altogether  uncongenial 
to  Crimmins,  still  smarting  under  Tom's  con- 
temptuous treatment  of  him  the  day  he 
called  upon  her  in  his  capacity  of  walking 
delegate. 

McGaw's  tempting  promise  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  Crimmins.  He  determined 
then  and  there  to  inflict  some  blow  on  Tom 
Grogan  from  which  she  could  never  recover. 
He  was  equally  determined  on  one  other 
thing  —  not  to  be  caught. 

Early  the  next  morning  Crimmins  sta- 
tioned himself  outside  O'Leary's  where  he 
could  get  an  uninterrupted  view  of  two 
streets.  He  stood  hunched  up  against  the 
jamb  of  O'Leary's  door  in  the  attitude  of  a 
corner  loafer,  with  three  parts  of  his  body 
touching  the  wood  —  hip,  shoulder,  and 
cheek.  For  some  time  no  one  appeared  in 
sight  either  useful  or  inimical  to  his  plans, 
until  Mr.  James  Finnegan,  who  was  filling 
the  morning  air  with  one  of  his  characteristic 
i34 


A   TWO-DOLLAR   BILL 

songs,  brightened  the  horizon  up  the  street  to 
his  left. 

Cully's  unexpected  appearance  at  that  mo- 
ment produced  so  uncomfortable  an  effect 
upon  Mr.  Crimmins  that  that  gentleman  fell 
instantly  back  through  the  barroom  door. 

The  boy's  quick  eye  caught  the  movement, 
and  it  also  caught  a  moment  later,  Mr.  Crim- 
mins's  nose  and  watery  eye  peering  out  again 
when  their  owner  had  assured  himself  that 
his  escape  had  been  unseen.  Cully  slackened 
his  pace  to  see  what  new  move  Crimmins 
would  make  —  but  without  the  slightest  sign 
of  recognition  on  his  face  —  and  again  broke 
into  song.  He  was  on  his  way  to  get  the 
mail,  and  had  passed  McGaw's  house  but  a 
few  moments  before,  in  the  hope  that  that 
worthy  Knight  might  be  either  leaning  over 
the  fence  or  seated  on  the  broken-down 
porch.  He  was  anxious  McGaw  should  hear 
a  few  improvised  stanzas  of  a  new  ballad  he 
had  composed  to  that  delightful  old  negro 
melody,  "  Massa's  in  de  cold,  cold  ground," 
in  which  the  much-beloved  Southern  planter 
and  the  thoroughly  hated  McGaw  changed 
places  in  the  cemetery. 

That  valiant  Knight  was  still  in  bed, 
i35 


TOM   GROGAN 

exhausted  by  the  labors  of  the  previous  even- 
ing. Young  Billy,  however,  was  about  the 
stables,  and  so  Mr.  James  Finnegan  took 
occasion  to  tarry  long  enough  in  the  road  for 
the  eldest  son  of  his  enemy  to  get  the  stanza 
by  heart,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  retail  it 
to  his  father  when  he  appeared. 

Billy  dropped  his  manure-fork  as  soon  as 
Cully  had  moved  on  again,  and  dodging  be- 
hind the  fence,  followed  him  toward  the  post- 
office,  hoping  to  hit  the  singer  with  a  stone. 

When  the  slinking  body  of  McGaw's  eldest 
son  became  visible  to  Mr.  Crimmins,  his  face 
broke  into  creases  so  nearly  imitative  of  a 
smile  that  his  best  friend  would  not  have 
known  him.  He  slapped  the  patched  knees 
of  his  overalls  gayly,  bent  over  in  a  subdued 
chuckle,  and  disported  himself  in  a  merry 
and  much  satisfied  way.  His  rum-and-watery 
eyes  gleamed  with  delight,  and  even  his  chin- 
whisker  took  on  a  new  vibration.  Next  he 
laid  one  finger  along  his  nose,  looked  about 
him  cautiously,  and  said  to  himself,  in  an 
undertone  :  — 

"  The  very  boy  !  It  '11  fix  McGaw  dead  to 
rights,  an'  ther'  won't  be  no  squealin'  after 
it 's  done." 

136 


A   TWO-DOLLAR   BILL 

Here  he  peered  around  the  edge  of  one  of 
O'Leary's  drawn  window-shades,  and  waited 
until  Cully  had  passed  the  barroom,  secured 
his  mail,  and  started  for  home,  his  uninter- 
rupted song  filling  the  air.  Then  he  opened 
the  blind  very  cautiously,  and  beckoned  to 
Billy. 

Cully's  eye  caught  the  new  movement  as 
he  turned  the  corner.  His  song  ceased. 
When  Mr.  Finnegan  had  anything  very  seri- 
ous on  his  mind  he  never  sang. 

When,  some  time  after,  Billy  emerged 
from  O'Leary's  door,  he  had  a  two-dollar  bill 
tightly  squeezed  in  his  right  hand.  Part  of 
this  he  spent  on  his  way  home  for  a  box  of 
cigarettes  ;  the  balance  he  invested  in  a  mys- 
terious-looking tin  can.  The  can  was  narrow 
and  long  and  had  a  screw  nozzle  at  one  end. 
This  can  Cully  saw  him  hide  in  a  corner  of 
his  father's  stable. 

*37 


XII 

cully's  night  out 

EVER  since  the  night  Cully,  with  the 
news  of  the  hair-breadth  escape  of  the 
bid,  had  dashed  back  to  Tom,  waiting  around 
the  corner,  he  had  been  the  hero  of  the  hour. 
As  she  listened  to  his  description  of  Mc- 
Gaw  when  her  bid  dropped  on  the  table  — 
"  LookhV  like  he  'd  eat  sumpin'  he  could  n't 
swaller  —  see  ?  "  her  face  was  radiant,  and  her 
sides  shook  with  laughter.  She  had  counted 
upon  McGaw  falling  into  her  trap,  and  she 
was  delighted  over  the  success  of  her  experi- 
ment. Tom  had  once  before  caught  him  rais- 
ing a  bid  when  he  discovered  that  but  one 
had  been  offered. 

In  recognition  of  these  valuable  services 
Tom  had  given  Cully  two  tickets  for  a  circus 
which  was  then  charming  the  inhabitants  of 
New  Brighton,  a  mile  or  more  away,  and  he 
and  Carl  were  going  the  following  night.  Mr. 
Finnegan  was  to  wear  a  black  sack-coat,  a 
138 


CULLY'S    NIGHT   OUT 

derby  hat,  and  a  white  shirt  which  Jennie,  in 
the  goodness  of  her  heart,  had  ironed  for  him 
herself.  She  had  also  ironed  a  scarf  of  Carl's, 
and  had  laid  it  on  the  window-sill  of  the  outer 
kitchen,  where  Cully  might  find  it  as  he 
passed  by. 

The  walks  home  from  church  were  now 
about  the  only  chance  the  lovers  had  of  be- 
ing together.  Almost  every  day  Carl  was  off 
with  the  teams.  When  he  did  come  home  in 
working  hours  he  would  take  his  dinner  with 
the  men  and  boys  in  the  outer  kitchen.  Jen- 
nie sometimes  waited  on  them,  but  he  rarely 
spoke  to  her  as  she  passed  in  and  out,  except 
with  his  eyes. 

When  Cully  handed  him  the  scarf,  Carl  had 
already  dressed  himself  in  his  best  clothes, 
producing  so  marked  a  change  in  the  out- 
ward appearance  of  the  young  Swede  that 
Cully  in  his  admiration  pronounced  him  "  out 
o'  sight." 

Cully's  metamorphosis  was  even  more  com- 
plete than  Carl's.  Now  that  the  warm  spring 
days  were  approaching,  Mr.  Finnegan  had 
decided  that  his  superabundant  locks  were 
unseasonable,  and  had  therefore  had  his  hair 
cropped  close  to  his  scalp,  showing  here  and 

l39 


TOM   GROGAN 

there  a  white  scar,  the  record  of  some  formei 
scrimmage.  Reaching  to  the  edge  of  each 
ear  was  a  collar  as  stiff  as  pasteboard.  His 
derby  was  tilted  over  his  left  eyebrow,  shad- 
ing a  face  brimming  over  with  fun  and  expec- 
tancy. Below  this  was  a  vermilion-colored 
necktie  and  a  black  coat  and  trousers.  His 
shoes  sported  three  coats  of  blacking,  which 
only  partly  concealed  the  dust-marks  of  his 
profession. 

"  Hully  gee,  Carl !  but  de  circus  's  a-goin' 
tei  be  a  dandy,"  he  called  out  in  delight,  as 
he  patted  a  double  shuffle  with  his  feet.  "  I 
see  de  picters  on  de  fence  when  I  come  from 
de  ferry.  Dere  's  a  chariot -race  out  o'  sight, 
an'  a'  elephant  what  stands  on  'is  head.  Hold 
on  till  I  see  ef  de  Big  Gray  's  got  enough 
beddin'  under  him.  He  wuz  awful  stiff  dis 
mornin'  when  I  helped  him  up."  Cully  never 
went  to  bed  without  seeing  the  Gray  first 
made  comfortable  for  the  night. 

The  two  young  fellows  saw  all  the  sights, 
and  after  filling  their  pockets  with  peanuts 
and  themselves  with  pink  lemonade,  took 
their  seats  at  last  under  the  canvas  roof, 
where  they  waited  impatiently  for  the  per- 
formance to  begin. 

140 


CULLY'S   NIGHT  OUT 

The  only  departure  from  the  ordinary  rou- 
tine was  Cully's  instant  acceptance  of  the 
clown's  challenge  to  ride  the  trick  mule,  and 
his  winning  the  wager  amid  the  plaudits 
of  the  audience,  after  a  rough-and-tumble 
scramble  in  the  sawdust,  sticking  so  tight  to 
his  back  that  a  bystander  remarked  that  the 
only  way  to  get  the  boy  off  would  be  to  "  peel 
the  mule." 

When  they  returned  it  was  nearly  midnight. 
Cully  had  taken  off  his  "  choker,"  as  he  called 
it,  and  had  curled  it  outside  his  hat.  They 
had  walked  over  from  the  show,  and  the  tight 
clutch  of  the  collar  greatly  interfered  with 
Cully's  discussion  of  the  wonderful  things  he 
had  seen.  Besides,  the  mule  had  ruined  it 
completely  for  a  second  use. 

It  was  a  warm  night  for  early  spring,  and 
Carl  had  his  coat  over  his  arm.  When  they 
reached  the  outer  stable  fence  —  the  one  near- 
est the  village  —  Cully's  keen  nose  scented  a 
peculiar  odor.  "Who  's  been  a  breakin'  de 
lamp  round  here,  Carl  ? "  he  asked,  sniffing 
close  to  the  ground.  "Holy  smoke!  Look 
at  de  light  in  de  stable  —  sumpin'  mus'  be  de 
matter  wid  de  Big  Gray,  or  de  ole  woman 
would  n't  be  out  dis  time  o'  night  wid  a  lamp. 
141 


TOM  GROGAN 

What  would  she  be  a-doin'  out  here,  any- 
way ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  sudden  anxious  tone. 
"  Dis  ain't  de  road  from  de  house.  Hully 
gee !  Look  out  for  yer  coat !  De  rails  is 
a-soakin'  wid  ker'sene  !  " 

At  this  moment  a  little  flame  shot  out  of 
the  window  over  the  Big  Gray's  head  and 
licked  its  way  up  the  siding,  followed  by  a 
column  of  smoke  which  burst  through  the 
door  in  the  hay-loft  above  the  stalls  of  the 
three  horses  next  the  bedroom  of  Carl  and 
Cully.  A  window  was  hastily  opened  in  Tom's 
house  and  a  frightened  shriek  broke  the  still- 
ness of  the  night.  It  was  Jennie's  voice,  and 
it  had  a  tone  of  something  besides  alarm. 

What  the  sight  of  the  fire  had  paralyzed  in 
Carl,  the  voice  awoke. 

"  No,  no  !  I  here  —  I  safe,  Jan  !  "  he  cried, 
clearing  the  fence  with  a  bound. 

Cully  did  not  hear  Jennie.  He  saw  only 
the  curling  flames  over  the  Big  Gray's  head. 
As  he  dashed  down  the  slope  he  kept  mutter- 
ing the  old  horse's  pet  names,  catching  his 
breath,  and  calling  to  Carl,  "  Save  de  Gray  — 
save  Ole  Blowhard  !  " 

Cully  reached  the  stable  first,  smashed  the 
padlock  with  a  shovel,  and  rushed  into  the 
142 


CULLY'S   NIGHT   OUT 

Gray's  stall.  Carl  seized  a  horse-bucket,  and 
began  sousing  the  window-sills  of  the  harness- 
room,  where  the  fire  was  hottest. 

By  this  time  the  whole  house  was  aroused. 
Tom,  dazed  by  the  sudden  awakening,  with 
her  ulster  thrown  about  her  shoulders,  stood 
barefooted  on  the  porch.  Jennie  was  still  at 
the  window,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  now  that  Carl  was  safe.  Patsy  had 
crawled  out  of  his  low  crib  by  his  mother's 
bed,  and  was  stumbling  downstairs,  one  foot 
at  a  time.  Twice  had  Cully  tried  to  drag 
the  old  horse  clear  of  his  stall,  and  twice  had 
he  fallen  back  for  fresh  air.  Then  came 
a  smothered  cry  from  inside  the  blinding 
smoke,  a  burst  of  flame  lighting  up  the  stable, 
and  the  Big  Gray  was  pushed  out,  his  head 
wrapped  in  Carl's  coat,  the  Swede  pressing 
behind,  Cully  coaxing  him  on,  his  arms  around 
the  horse's  neck. 

Hardly  had  the  Big  Gray  cleared  the  stable 
when  the  roof  of  the  small  extension  fell,  and 
a  great  burst  of  flame  shot  up  into  the  night 
air.  All  hope  of  rescuing  the  other  two 
horses  was  now  gone. 

Tom  did   not   stand   long   dazed   and   be- 
wildered.    In  a  twinkling  she  had  drawn  on 
i43 


TOM   GROGAN 

a  pair  of  men's  boots  over  her  bare  feet, 
buckled  her  ulster  over  her  night-dress,  and 
rushed  back  upstairs  to  drag  the  blankets 
from  the  beds.  Laden  with  these  she  sprang 
down  the  steps,  called  to  Jennie  to  follow, 
soaked  the  bedding  in  the  water-trough,  and, 
picking  up  the  dripping  mass,  carried  it  to 
Carl  and  Cully,  who,  now  that  the  Gray  was 
safely  tied  to  the  kitchen  porch,  were  on  the 
roof  of  the  tool-house,  fighting  the  sparks 
that  fell  on  the  shingles. 

By  this  time  the  neighbors  began  to  arrive 
from  the  tenements.  Tom  took  charge  of 
every  man  as  soon  as  he  got  his  breath,  sta- 
tioned two  at  the  pump-handle,  and  formed  a 
line  of  bucket-passers  from  the  water-trough 
to  Carl  and  Cully,  who  were  spreading  the 
blankets  on  the  roof.  The  heat  now  was 
terrific  ;  Carl  had  to  shield  his  face  with  his 
sleeve  as  he  threw  the  water.  Cully  lay  flat 
on  the  shingles,  holding  to  the  steaming 
blankets,  and  directing  Carl's  buckets  with 
his  outstretched  finger  when  some  greater 
spark  lodged  and  gained  headway.  If  they 
could  keep  these  burning  brands  under  until 
the  heat  had  spent  itself,  they  could  perhaps 
save  the  tool-house  and  the  larger  stable. 
144 


CULLY'S   NIGHT   OUT 

All  this  time  Patsy  had  stood  on  the  porch 
where  Tom  had  left  him  hanging  over  the 
railing  wrapped  in  Jennie's  shawl.  He  was 
not  to  move  until  she  came  for  him  :  she 
wanted  him  out  of  the  way  of  trampling  feet. 
Now  and  then  she  would  turn  anxiously, 
catch  sight  of  his  wizened  face  dazed  with 
fright,  wave  her  hand  to  him  encouragingly, 
and  work  on. 

Suddenly  the  little  fellow  gave  a  cry  of 
terror  and  slid  from  the  porch,  trailing  the 
shawl  after  him,  his  crutch  jerking  over  the 
ground,  his  sobs  almost  choking  him. 

"  Mammy  !  Cully  !  Stumpy  's  tied  in  the 
loft !  Oh,  somebody  help  me  !  He  's  in  the 
loft !     Oh,  please,  please !  " 

In  the  roar  of  the  flames  nobody  heard 
him.  The  noise  of  axes  beating  down  the 
burning  fences  drowned  all  other  sounds.  At 
this  moment  Tom  was  standing  on  a  cart, 
passing  up  the  buckets  to  Carl.  Cully  had 
crawled  to  the  ridge-pole  of  the  tool-house  to 
watch  both  sides  of  the  threatened  roof. 

The  little  cripple  made  his  way  slowly  into 
the  crowd  nearest  the  sheltered  side  of  the 
tool-house,  pulling  at  the  men's  coats,  plead- 
ing with  them  to  save  his  goat,  his  Stumpy. 


TOM   GROGAN 

On  this  side  was  a  door  opening  into  a 
room  where  the  chains  were  kept.  From  it 
rose  a  short  flight  of  six  or  seven  steps  lead- 
ing to  the  loft.  This  loft  had  two  big  doors 
—  one  closed,  nearest  the  fire,  and  the  other 
wide  open,  fronting  the  house.  When  the 
roof  of  the  burning  stable  fell,  the  wisps  of 
straw  in  the  cracks  of  the  closed  door  burst 
into  flame. 

Within  three  feet  of  this  blazing  mass, 
shivering  with  fear,  tugging  at  his  rope,  his 
eyes  bursting  from  his  head,  stood  Stumpy, 
his  piteous  bleatings  unheard  in  the  surround- 
ing roar.  A  child's  head  appeared  above  the 
floor,  followed  by  a  cry  of  joy  as  the  boy  flung 
himself  upon  the  straining  rope.  The  next 
instant  a  half-frenzied  goat  sprang  through 
the  open  door  and  landed  in  the  yard  below 
in  the  midst  of  the  startled  men  and  women. 

Tom  was  on  the  cart  when  she  saw  this 
streak  of  light  flash  out  of  the  darkness  of 
the  loft  door  and  disappear.  Her  eyes  in- 
stinctively turned  to  look  at  Patsy  in  his  place 
on  the  porch.  Then  a  cry  of  horror  burst 
from  the  crowd,  silenced  instantly  as  a  pier- 
cing shriek  filled  the  air. 

"  My  God  !     It 's  me  Patsy  !  " 
146 


CULLY'S   NIGHT   OUT 

Bareheaded  in  the  open  doorway  of  the  now 
blazing  loft,  a  silhouette  against  the  flame,  his 
little  white  gown  reaching  to  his  knees,  his 
crutch  gone,  the  stifling  smoke  rolling  out  in 
great  whirls  above  his  head,  stood  the  cripple ! 

Tom  hurled  herself  into  the  crowd,  knock- 
ing the  men  out  of  her  way,  and  ran  towards 
the  chain  room  door.  At  this  instant  a  man 
in  his  shirt-sleeves  dropped  from  the  smok- 
ing roof,  sprang  in  front  of  her,  and  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

"  No,  not  you  go  ;  Carl  go  !  "  he  said  in  a 
firm  voice,  holding  her  fast. 

Before  she  could  speak  he  snatched  a  hand- 
kerchief from  a  woman's  neck,  plunged  it  into 
the  water  of  the  horse-trough,  bound  it  about 
his  head,  dashed  up  the  short  flight  of  steps, 
and  crawled  toward  the  terror-stricken  child. 
There  was  a  quick  clutch,  a  bound  back,  and 
the  smoke  rolled  over  them,  shutting  man 
and  child  from  view. 

The  crowd  held  their  breath  as  it  waited. 
A  man  with  his  hair  singed  and  his  shirt  on 
fire  staggered  from  the  side  door.  In  his 
arms  he  carried  the  almost  lifeless  boy,  his 
face  covered  by  the  handkerchief. 

A  woman  rushed  up,  caught  the  boy  in  her 
i47 


TOM   GROGAN 

arms,  and   sank   on   her   knees.      The   man 
reeled  and  fell. 

When  Carl  regained  consciousness,  Jennie 
was  bending  over  him,  chafing  his  hands  and 
bathing  his  face.  Patsy  was  on  the  sofa, 
wrapped  in  Jennie's  shawl.  Pop  was  fanning 
him.  Carl's  wet  handkerchief,  the  old  man 
said,  had  kept  the  boy  from  suffocating. 

The  crowd  had  begun  to  disperse.  The 
neighbors  and  strangers  had  gone  their  sev- 
eral ways.  The  tenement-house  mob  were 
on  the  road  to  their  beds.  Many  friends  had 
stopped  to  sympathize,  and  even  the  bitter- 
est of  Tom's  enemies  said  they  were  glad  it 
was  no  worse. 

When  the  last  of  them  had  left  the  yard, 
Tom,  tired  out  with  anxiety  and  hard  work, 
threw  herself  down  on  the  porch.  The  morn- 
ing was  already  breaking,  the  gray  streaks  of 
dawn  brightening  the  east.  From  her  seat 
she  could  hear  through  the  open  door  the 
soothing  tones  of  Jennie's  voice  as  she  talked 
to  her  lover,  and  the  hoarse  whispers  of  Carl 
in  reply.  He  had  recovered  his  breath  again, 
and  was  but  little  worse  for  his  scorching, 
except  in  his  speech.  Jennie  was  in  the 
148 


CULLY'S   NIGHT  OUT 

kitchen  making  some  coffee  for  the  exhausted 
workers,  and  he  was  helping  her. 

Tom  realized  fully  all  that  had  happened. 
She  knew  who  had  saved  Patsy's  life.  She 
remembered  how  he  laid  her  boy  in  her  arms, 
and  she  still  saw  the  deathly  pallor  in  his 
face  as  he  staggered  and  fell.  What  had  he 
not  done  for  her  and  her  household  since  he 
entered  her  service  ?  If  he  loved  Jennie,  and 
she  him,  was  it  his  fault  ?  Why  did  she 
rebel,  and  refuse  this  man  a  place  in  her 
home  ?  Then  she  thought  of  her  own  Tom 
no  longer  with  her,  and  of  her  fight  alone 
and  without  him.  What  would  he  have 
thought  of  it  ?  How  would  he  have  advised 
her  to  act  ?  He  had  always  hoped  such  great 
things  for  Jennie.  Would  he  now  be  willing 
to  give  her  to  this  stranger  ?  If  she  could 
only  talk  to  her  Tom  about  it  all ! 

As  she  sat,  her  head  in  her  hand,  the  smok- 
ing stable,  the  eager  wild-eyed  crowd,  the 
dead  horses,  faded  away  and  became  to  her 
as  a  dream.  She  heard  nothing  but  the  voice 
of  Jennie  and  her  lover,  saw  only  the  white 
face  of  her  boy.  A  sickening  sense  of  utter 
loneliness  swept  over  her.  She  rose  and 
moved  away. 

149 


TOM   GROGAN 

During  all  this  time  Cully  was  watching 
the  dying  embers,  and  when  all  danger  was 
over,  —  only  the  small  stable  with  its  two 
horses  had  been  destroyed,  —  he  led  the  Big 
Gray  back  to  the  pump,  washed  his  head, 
sponging  his  eyes  and  mouth,  and  housed 
him  in  the  big  stable.     Then  he  vanished. 

Immediately  on  leaving  the  Big  Gray,  Cully 
had  dodged  behind  the  stable,  run  rapidly  up 
the  hill,  keeping  close  to  the  fence,  and  had 
come  out  behind  a  group  of  scattering  specta- 
tors. There  he  began  a  series  of  complicated 
manoeuvres,  mostly  on  his  toes,  lifting  his 
head  over  those  of  the  crowd,  and  ending 
in  a  sudden  dart  forward  and  as  sudden  a 
halt,  within  a  few  inches  of  young  Billy  Mc- 
Gaw's  coat-collar. 

Billy  turned  pale,  but  held  his  ground.  He 
felt  sure  Cully  would  not  dare  attack  him 
with  so  many  others  about.  Then,  again,  the 
glow  of  the  smouldering  cinders  had  a  fascina- 
tion for  him  that  held  him  to  the  spot. 

Cully  also  seemed  spellbound.  The  only 
view  of  the  smoking  ruins  that  satisfied  him 
seemed  to  be  the  one  he  caught  over  young 
McGaw's  shoulder.  He  moved  closer  and 
closer,  sniffing  about  cautiously,  as  a  dog 
150 


CULLY'S  NIGHT  OUT 

would  on  a  trail.  Indeed,  the  closer  he  got 
to  Billy's  coat  the  more  absorbed  he  seemed 
to  be  in  the  view  beyond. 

Here  an  extraordinary  thing  happened. 
There  was  a  dipping  of  Cully's  head  between 
Billy's  legs,  a  raising  of  both  arms,  grabbing 
Billy  around  the  waist,  and  in  a  flash  the 
hope  of  the  house  of  McGaw  was  swept  off 
his  feet,  Cully  beneath  him,  and  in  full  run  to- 
ward Tom's  house.  The  bystanders  laughed  ; 
they  thought  it  only  a  boyish  trick.  Billy 
kicked  and  struggled,  but  Cully  held  on. 
When  they  were  clear  of  the  crowd,  Cully 
shook  him  to  the  ground  and  grabbed  him  by 
the  coat-collar. 

"  Say,  young  feller,  where  wuz  ye  when  de 
fire  started  ? " 

At  this  Billy  broke  into  a  howl,  and  one 
of  the  crowd,  some  distance  off,  looked  up. 
Cully  clapped  his  hand  over  his  mouth : 
"  None  o'  that,  or  I  '11  mash  yer  mug  —  see  ?  " 
standing  over  him  with  clenched  fist. 

"I  war  n't  nowheres,"  stammered  Billy. 
"  Say,  take  yer  hands  off  'n  me  —  ye  ain't  "  — 

"T'ell  I  ain't!     Ye  answer  me  straight  — 
see?  —  or  I  '11  punch  yer  face  in,"  tightening 
his  grasp.     "What  wuz  ye  a-doin'  when  de 
151 


TOM   GROGAN 

circus  come  out  —  an',  anoder  t'ing,  what  's 
dis  cologne  yer  got  on  yer  coat  ?  Maybe  next 
time  ye  climb  a  fence  ye  '11  keep  from  spillin' 
it,  see  ?  Oh,  I  'm  onter  ye.  Ye  set  de  stable 
afire.     Dat  's  what  's  de  matter." 

"  I  hope  I  may  die  —  I  wuz  a-carryin'  de 
can  er  ker'sene  home,  an'  when  de  roof  fell 
in  I  wuz  up  on  de  fence  so  I  c'u'd  see  de  fire, 
an'  de  can  slipped  "  — 

"  What  fence  ?  "  said  Cully,  shaking  him 
as  a  terrier  would  a  rat. 

"Why  dat  fence  on  de  hill." 

That  was  enough  for  Cully.  He  had  his 
man.  The  lie  had  betrayed  him.  Without  a 
word  he  jerked  the  cowardly  boy  from  the 
ground,  and  marched  him  straight  into  the 
kitchen  :  — 

"  Say,   Carl,    I  got    de   fire-bug.      Ye  kin 
smell  der  ker'sene  on  his  clo'es." 
'52 


XIII 

MR.    QUIGG   DRAWS   A   PLAN 

McGAW  had  watched  the  fire  from  his 
upper  window  with  mingled  joy  and 
fear — joy  that  Tom's  property  was  on  fire, 
and  fear  that  it  would  be  put  out  before  she 
would  be  ruined.  He  had  been  waiting  all 
the  evening  for  Crimmins,  who  had  failed  to 
arrive.  Billy  had  not  been  at  home  since 
supper,  so  he  could  get  no  details  as  to  the 
amount  of  the  damage  from  that  source.  In 
this  emergency  he  sent  next  morning  for 
Quigg  to  make  a  reconnaissance  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  enemy's  camp,  ascertain  how  badly 
Tom  had  been  crippled,  and  learn  whether 
her  loss  would  prevent  her  signing  the  con- 
tract the  following  night.  Mr.  Quigg  ac- 
cepted the  mission,  the  more  willingly  be- 
cause he  wanted  to  settle  certain  affairs  of 
his  own.  Jennie  had  avoided  him  lately,  — 
why  he  could  not  tell,  —  and  he  determined, 
before  communicating  to  his  employer  the 
153 


TOM  GROGAN 

results  of  his  inquiries  about  Tom,  to  know 
exactly  what  his  own  chances  were  with  the 
girl.  He  could  slip  over  to  the  house  while 
Tom  was  in  the  city,  and  leave  before  she 
returned. 

On  his  way,  the  next  day,  he  robbed  a  gar- 
den fence  of  a  mass  of  lilacs,  breaking  off 
the  leaves  as  he  walked.  When  he  reached 
the  door  of  the  big  stable  he  stopped  for 
a  moment,  glanced  cautiously  in  to  see  if  he 
could  find  any  preparations  for  the  new 
work,  and  then,  making  a  mental  note  of 
the  surroundings,  followed  the  path  to  the 
porch. 

Pop  opened  the  door.  He  knew  Quigg 
only  by  sight  —  an  unpleasant  sight,  he 
thought,  as  he  looked  into  his  hesitating, 
wavering  eyes. 

"  It 's  a  bad  fire  ye  had,  Mr.  Mullins,"  said 
Quigg,  seating  himself  in  the  rocker,  the 
blossoms  half  strangled  in  his  grasp. 

"  Yis,  purty  bad,  but  small  loss,  thank 
God,"  said  Pop  quietly. 

"  That  lets  her  out  of  the  contract,  don't 
it  ?  "  said  Quigg.  "  She  '11  be  short  of  horses 
now." 

Pop  made  no  answer.  He  did  not  intend 
i54 


MR.  QUIGG  DRAWS   A   PLAN 

to  give  Mr.  Quigg  any  information  that  might 
comfort  him. 

"  Were  ye  insured  ? "  asked  Quigg,  in  a 
cautious  tone,  his  eyes  on  the  lilacs. 

"  Oh,  yis,  ivery  pinny  on  what  was  burned, 
so  Mary  tells  me." 

Quigg  caught  his  breath ;  the  rumor  in 
the  village  was  the  other  way.  Why  did  n't 
Crimmins  make  a  clean  sweep  of  it  and  burn 
'em  all  at  once,  he  said  to  himself. 

"  I  brought  some  flowers  over  for  Miss 
Jennie,"  said  Quigg,  regaining  his  composure. 
"Is  she  in  ?  " 

"Yis;  I'll  call  her."  Gentle  and  appar- 
ently harmless  as  Gran'pop  was,  men  like 
Quigg  somehow  never  looked  him  steadily  in 
the  eye. 

"  I  was  tellin'  Mr.  Mullins  I  brought  ye 
over  some  flowers,"  said  Quigg,  turning  to 
Jennie  as  she  entered,  and  handing  her  the 
bunch  without  leaving  his  seat,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  pair  of  shoes. 

"  You  're  very  kind,  Mr.  Quigg,"  said  the 
girl,  laying  them  on  the  table,  and  still  standing. 

"  I  hear'd  your  brother  Patsy  was  near 
smothered  till  Dutchy  got  him  out.  Was  ye 
there  ? " 

x55 


TOM   GROGAN 

Jennie  bit  her  lip  and  her  heart  quickened. 
Carl's  sobriquet  in  the  village,  coming  from 
such  lips,  sent  the  hot  blood  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Nilsson  saved  his  life,"  she 
answered  slowly,  with  girlish  dignity,  a  back- 
ward rush  filling  her  heart  as  she  remembered 
Carl  staggering  out  of  the  burning  stable, 
Patsy  held  close  to  his  breast. 

"  The  fellers  in  Rockville  say  ye  think  it 
was  set  afire.  I  see  Justice  Rowan  turned 
Billy  McGaw  loose.  Do  ye  suspect  anybody 
else  ?  Some  says  a  tramp  crawled  in  and 
upset  his  pipe." 

This  lie  was  coined  on  the  spot  and  issued 
immediately  to  see  if  it  would  pass. 

"  Mother  says  she  knows  who  did  it,  and 
it  '11  all  come  out  in  time.  Cully  found  the 
can  this  morning,"  said  Jennie,  leaning 
against  the  table. 

Quigg's  jaw  fell  and  his  brow  knit  as  Jen- 
nie spoke.  That  was  just  like  the  fool,  he 
said  to  himself.  Why  did  n't  he  get  the  stuff 
in  a  bottle  and  then  break  it  ? 

But  the  subject  was  too  dangerous  to  lin- 
ger over,  so  he  began  talking  of  the  dance 
down  at  the  Town  Hall,  and  the  meeting  last 
Sunday  after  church.  He  asked  her  if  she 
iS6 


MR.  QUIGG  DRAWS   A   PLAN 

would  go  with  him  to  the  "  sociable  "  they 
were  going  to  have  at  No.  4  Truck-house ; 
and  when  she  said  she  could  n't,  —  that  her 
mother  did  n't  want  her  to  go  out,  etc.,  — ■ 
Quigg  moved  his  chair  closer,  with  the  re- 
mark that  the  old  woman  was  always  putting 
her  oar  in  and  spoiling  things  ;  the  way  she 
was  going  on  with  the  Union  would  ruin  her ; 
she  'd  better  join  in  with  the  boys,  and  be 
friendly ;  they  'd  "down  her  yet  if  she  did  n't." 

"  I  hope  nothing  will  happen  to  mother, 
Mr.  Quigg,"  said  Jennie,  in  an  anxious  tone, 
as  she  sank  into  a  chair. 

Quigg  misunderstood  the  movement,  and 
moved  his  own  closer. 

"  There  won't  nothin'  happen  any  more, 
Jennie,  if  you  '11  do  as  I  say." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  called  her 
by  her  name.  She  could  not  understand  how 
he  dared.     She  wished  Carl  would  come  in. 

"  Will  you  do  it  ? "  asked  Quigg  eagerly, 
his  cunning  face  and  mean  eyes  turned  to- 
ward her. 

Jennie  never  raised  her  head.  Her  cheeks 
were  burning.     Quigg  went  on,  — 

"  I  've  been  keepin'  company  with  ye,  Jen- 
nie, all  winter,  and  the  fellers  is  guyin'  me 

«57 


TOM   GROGAN 

about  it.  You  know  I  'm  solid  with  the 
Union  and  can  help  yer  mother,  and  if  ye  '11 
let  me  speak  to  Father  McCluskey  next  Sun- 
day "  — 

The  girl  sprang  from  her  chair. 

"  I  won't  have  you  talk  that  way  to  me, 
Dennis  Quigg  !  I  never  said  a  word  to  you, 
and  you  know  it."  Her  mother's  spirit  was 
now  flashing  in  her  eyes.  "  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself  to  come  here  —  and"  — 

Then  she  broke  down. 

Another  woman  would  have  managed  it 
differently,  perhaps,  —  by  a  laugh,  a  smile  of 
contempt,  or  a  frigid  refusal.  This  mere 
child,  stung  to  the  quick  by  Quigg's  insult, 
had  only  her  tears  in  defense.  The  Walking 
Delegate  turned  his  head  and  looked  out  of 
the  window.  Then  he  caught  up  his  hat  and 
without  a  word  to  the  sobbing  girl  hastily  left 
the  room. 

Tom  was  just  entering  the  lower  gate. 
Quigg  saw  her  and  tried  to  dodge  behind  the 
tool-house,  but  it  was  too  late,  so  he  faced 
her.  Tom's  keen  eye  caught  the  sly  move- 
ment and  the  quickly  altered  expression. 
Some  new  trickery  was  in  the  air,  she  knew ; 
she  detected  it  in  every  line  of  Quigg's  face. 
158 


MR.  QUIGG   DRAWS   A   PLAN 

What  was  McGaw  up  to  now  ?  she  asked 
herself.  Was  he  after  Carl  and  the  men,  or 
getting  ready  to  burn  the  other  stable  ? 

"  Good  -morning,  Mr.  Quigg.  Ain't  ye 
lost  ?  "  she  asked  coldly. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Quigg,  with  a  forced  laugh. 
"  I  come  over  to  see  if  I  could  help  about  the 
fire." 

It  was  the  first  thing  that  came  into  his 
head ;  he  had  hoped  to  pass  with  only  a  nod 
of  greeting. 

"  Did  ye  ?  "  replied  Tom  thoughtfully.  She 
saw  he  had  lied,  but  she  led  him  on.  "  What 
kind  of  help  did  ye  think  of  givin'  ?  The  in- 
surance company  will  pay  the  money,  the  two 
horses  is  buried,  an'  we  begin  diggin'  post- 
holes  for  a  new  stable  in  the  mornin'.  Per- 
haps ye  were  thinkin'  of  lendin'  a  hand  yer- 
self.  If  ye  did,  I  can  put  ye  alongside  of 
Carl ;  one  shovel  might  do  for  both  of  ye." 

Quigg  colored  and  laughed  uneasily.  Some- 
body had  told  her,  then,  how  Carl  had  threat- 
ened him  with  uplifted  shovel  when  he  tried 
to  coax  the  Swede  away. 

"  No,  I  'm  not  diggin'  these  days  ;  but  I  've 
got  a  pull  wid  the  insurance  adjuster,  and 
might  git  an  extra  allowance  for  yer."  This 
J59 


TOM   GROGAN 

was  cut  from  whole  cloth.  He  had  never 
known  an  adjuster  in  his  life. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Tom,  still  looking 
square  at  him,  Quigg  squirming  under  her 
glance  like  a  worm  on  a  pin. 

"Well,  the  company  can't  tell  how  much 
feed  was  in  the  bins,  and  tools,  and  sech 
like,"  he  said,  with  another  laugh. 

A  laugh  is  always  a  safe  parry  when  a  pair 
of  clear  gray  search-light  eyes  are  cutting 
into  one  like  a  rapier. 

"  An'  yer  idea  is  for  me  to  git  paid  for  stuff 
that  was  n't  burned  up,  is  it  ?  " 

"Well,  that's  as  how  the  adjuster  says. 
Sometimes  he  sees  it  an'  sometimes  he  don't 
—  that's  where  the  pull  comes  in." 

Tom  put  her  arms  akimbo,  her  favorite 
attitude  when  her  anger  began  to  rise. 

"  Oh  I  see  !  The  pull  is  in  bribin'  the  ad- 
juster, as  ye  call  him,  so  he  can  cheat  the 
company." 

Quigg  shrugged  his  shoulders ;  that  part 
of  the  transaction  was  a  mere  trifle.  What 
were  companies  made  for  but  to  be  cheated  ? 

Tom  stood  for  a  minute  looking  him  all 
over. 

"  Dennis  Quigg,"  she  said  slowly,  weighing 
160 


MR.  QUIGG   DRAWS   A   PLAN 

each  word,  her  eyes  riveted  on  his  face, 
"  ye  're  a  very  sharp  young  man ;  ye  're  so 
very  sharp  that  I  wonder  ye  've  gone  so  long 
without  cuttin'  yerself.  But  one  thing  I  tell 
ye,  an'  that  is,  if  ye  keep  on  the  way  ye  're 
a-goin'  ye  '11  land  where  you  belong,  and 
that 's  up  the  river  in  a  potato-bug  suit  of 
clothes.  Turn  yer  head  this  way,  Quigg. 
Did  ye  niver  in  yer  whole  life  think  there  was 
somethin'  worth  the  havin'  in  bein'  honest  an' 
clean  an'  square,  an'  holdin'  yer  head  up  like 
a  man,  instead  of  skulkin'  round  like  a  thief  ? 
What  ye  're  up  to  this  mornin'  I  don't  know 
yet,  but  I  want  to  tell  ye  it 's  the  wrong  time 
o'  day  for  ye  to  make  calls,  and  the  night 's 
not  much  better,  unless  ye  're  particularly 
invited." 

Quigg  smothered  a  curse  and  turned  on  his 
heel  toward  the  village.  When  he  reached 
O'Leary's,  Dempsey  of  the  Executive  Com- 
mittee met  him  at  the  door.  He  and  Mc- 
Gaw  had  spent  the  whole  morning  in  devising 
plans  to  keep  Tom  out  of  the  board-room. 

Quigg' s  report  was  not  reassuring.  She 
would  be  paid  her  insurance  money,  he  said, 
and  would  certainly  be  at  the  meeting  that 
night. 

161 


TOM  GROGAN 

The  three  adjourned  to  the  room  over  the 
bar.  McGaw  began  pacing  the  floor,  his 
long  arms  hooked  behind  his  back.  He  had 
passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  every  hour  now 
added  to  his  anxiety.  His  face  was  a  dull 
gray  yellow,  and  his  eyes  were  sunken.  Now 
and  then  he  would  tug  at  his  collar  nervously. 
As  he  walked  he  clutched  his  fingers,  burying 
the  nails  in  the  palms,  the  red  hair  on  his 
wrists  bristling  like  spiders'  legs.  Dempsey 
sat  at  the  table  watching  him  calmly  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye. 

After  a  pause  Quigg  leaned  over,  his  lips 
close  to  Dempsey's  ear.  Then  he  drew  a 
plan  on  the  back  of  an  old  wine-list.  It 
marked  the  position  of  the  door  in  Tom's 
stable,  and  that  of  a  path  which  ran  across 
lots  and  was  concealed  from  her  house  by  a 
low  fence.  Dempsey  studied  it  a  moment, 
nodding  at  Ouigg's  whispered  explanations, 
and  passed  it  to  McGaw,  repeating  Quigg's 
words.  McGaw  stopped  and  bent  his  head. 
A  dull  gleam  flashed  out  of  his  smouldering 
eyes.  The  lines  of  his  face  hardened  and 
his  jaw  tightened.  For  some  minutes  he 
stood  irresolute,  gazing  vacantly  over  the  bud- 
ding trees  through  the  window.  Then  he 
162 


MR.  QUIGG  DRAWS   A   PLAN 

turned  sharply,  swallowed  a  brimming  glass 
of  raw  whiskey,  and  left  the  room. 

When  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  had  died 
away,  Dempsey  looked  at  Quigg  meaningly 
and  gave  a  low  laugh. 

163 


XIV 

BLOSSOM-WEEK 

IT  was  "blossom-week,"  and  every  garden 
and  hedge  flaunted  its  bloom  in  the 
soft  air.  All  about  was  the  perfume  of  flow- 
ers, the  odor  of  fresh  grass,  and  that  peculiar 
earthy  smell  of  new-made  garden  beds  but 
lately  sprinkled.  Behind  the  hill  overlooking 
the  harbor  the  sun  was  just  sinking  into  the 
sea.  Some  sentinel  cedars  guarding  its  crest 
stood  out  in  clear  relief  against  the  golden 
light.  About  their  tops,  in  wide  circles, 
swooped  a  flock  of  crows. 

Gran'pop  and  Tom  sat  on  the  front  porch, 
their  chairs  touching,  his  hand  on  hers.  She 
had  been  telling  him  of  Quigg's  visit  that 
morning.  She  had  changed  her  dress  for  a 
new  one.  The  dress  was  of  brown  cloth,  and 
had  been  made  in  the  village  —  tight  where 
it  should  be  loose,  and  loose  where  it  should 
be  tight.  She  had  put  it  on,  she  told  Pop,  to 
164 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 

make  a  creditable  appearance  before  the 
board  that  night. 

Jennie  was  flitting  in  and  out  between  the 
sitting-room  and  the  garden,  her  hands  full 
of  blossoms,  filling  the  china  jars  on  the  man- 
tel :  none  of  them  contained  Quigg's  con- 
tribution. Patsy  was  flat  on  his  back  on  the 
small  patch  of  green  surrounding  the  porch, 
playing  circus-elephant  with  Stumpy,  who 
stood  over  him  with  leveled  head. 

Up  the  hill,  but  a  few  rods  away,  Cully 
was  grazing  the  Big  Gray  —  the  old  horse 
munching  tufts  of  fresh,  sweet  grass  sprin- 
kled with  dandelions.  Cully  walked  beside 
him.  Now  and  then  he  lifted  one  of  his  legs, 
examining  the  hoof  critically  for  possible 
tender  places. 

There  was  nothing  the  matter  with  the 
Gray ;  the  old  horse  was  still  sound  :  but  it 
satisfied  Cully  to  be  assured,  and  it  satisfied, 
too,  a  certain  yearning  tenderness  in  his  heart 
toward  his  old  chum.  Once  in  a  while  he 
would  pat  the  Gray's  neck,  smoothing  his 
ragged,  half  worn  mane,  addressing  him  all 
the  while  in  words  of  endearment  expressed 
in  a  slang  positively  profane  and  utterly  with- 
out meaning  except  to  these  two. 

165 


TOM   GROGAN 

Suddenly  Jennie's  cheek  flushed  as  she 
came  out  on  the  porch.  Carl  was  coming  up 
the  path.  The  young  Swede  was  bareheaded, 
the  short  blond  curls  glistening  in  the  light ; 
his  throat  was  bare  too,  so  that  one  could  see 
the  big  muscles  in  his  neck.  Jennie  always 
liked  him  with  his  throat  bare ;  it  reminded 
her  of  a  hero  she  had  once  seen  in  a  play, 
who  stormed  a  fort  and  rescued  all  the  starv- 
ing women. 

"  Da  brown  horse  seek ;  batta  come  to 
stabble  an'  see  him,"  Carl  said,  going  direct 
to  the  porch,  where  he  stood  in  front  of  Tom, 
resting  one  hand  on  his  hip,  his  eyes  never 
wandering  from  her  face.  He  knew  where 
Jennie  was,  but  he  never  looked. 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  asked 
Tom,  her  thoughts  far  away  at  the  moment. 

"  I  don'  know ;  he  no  eat  da  oats  en  da 
box." 

"Will  he  drink  ? "  said  Tom,  awakening  to 
the  importance  of  the  information. 

"Yas;  'mos'  two  buckets." 

"It's  fever  he's  got,"  she  said,  turning  to 

Pop.     "  I  thought  that  yisterday  noon  when  I 

seen  him  a-workin'.     All  right,  Carl ;  I  '11  be 

down  before  I  go  to  the  board  meetin'.     An' 

166 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 

see  here,  Carl ;  ye  'd  better  git  ready  to  go 
wid  me.  I  '11  start  in  a  couple  o'  hours.  Will 
it  suit  ye,  Gran'pop,  if  Carl  goes  with  me  ? " 
—  patting  her  father's  shoulder.  "  If  ye  keep 
on  a-worritin'  I  '11  hev  to  hire  a  cop  to  follow 
me  round." 

Carl  lingered  for  a  moment  on  the  steps. 
Perhaps  Tom  had  some  further  orders  ;  per- 
haps, too,  Jennie  would  come  out  again.  In- 
voluntarily his  eye  wandered  toward  the  open 
door,  and  then  he  turned  to  go.  Jennie's 
heart  sprang  up  in  her  throat.  She  had  seen 
from  behind  the  curtains  the  shade  of  disap- 
pointment that  crossed  her  lover's  face.  She 
could  suffer  herself,  but  she  could  not  see 
Carl  unhappy.  In  an  instant  she  was  beside 
her  mother.  Anything  to  keep  Carl  —  she 
did  not  care  what. 

"Oh,  Carl,  will  you  bring  the  ladder  so  I 
can  reach  the  long  branches  ? "  she  said,  her 
quick  wit  helping  her  with  a  subterfuge. 

Carl  turned  and  glanced  at  Tom.  He 
felt  the  look  in  her  face  and  could  read  her 
thoughts. 

If  Tom  had  heard  Jennie  she  never  moved. 
This  affair  must  end  in  some  way,  she  said 
to  herself.  Why  had  she  not  sent  him  away 
167 


TOM   GROGAN 

long  before  ?  How  could  she  do  it  now  when 
he  had  risked  his  life  to  save  Patsy  ? 

Then  she  answered  firmly,  still  without 
turning  her  head,  "  No,  Jennie  ;  there  won't 
be  time.     Carl  must  get  ready  to  "  — 

Pop  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  There  's  plinty  o'  toime,  Mary.  Ye  '11  git 
the  ladder  behint  the  kitchen  door,  Carl.  I 
hed  it  ther'  mesilf  this  mornin'." 

Carl  found  the  ladder,  steadied  it  against 
the  tree,  and  guided  Jennie's  little  feet  till 
they  reached  the  topmost  round,  holding  on 
to  her  skirts  so  that  she  should  not  fall. 
Above  their  heads  the  branches  twined  and 
interlaced,  shedding  their  sweetest  blossoms 
over  their  happy  upturned  faces.  The  old 
man's  eyes  lightened  as  he  watched  them  for 
some  moments ;  then,  turning  to  Tom,  his 
voice  full  of  tenderness,  he  said  :  — 

"  Carl 's  a  foine  lad,  Mary  ;  ye  '11  do  no 
better  for  Jinnie." 

Tom  did  not  answer  ;  her  eyes  were  on  the 
cedars  where  the  crows  were  flying,  black 
silhouettes  against  the  yellow  sky. 

"  Did  I  shtop  ye  an'  break  yer  heart  whin 
ye  wint  off  wid  yer  own  Tom  ?  What  wuz  he 
but  an  honest  lad  thet  loved  ye,  an'  he  wid 
1 68 


Above  tJieir  heads  the  branches  twitted 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 

not  a  pinny  in  his  pocket  but  the  fare  that 
brought  ye  both  to  the  new  counthry." 

Tom's  eyes  filled.  She  could  not  see  the 
cedars  now.  All  the  hill  was  swimming  in 
light. 

"  Oi  hev  watched  Carl  sence  he  fust  come, 
Mary.  It 's  a  good  mither  some'er's  as  has 
lost  a  foine  b'y.  W'u'd  n't  ye  be  lonely 
yersilf  ef  ye  'd  come  here  wid  nobody  to 
touch  yer  hand  ?  " 

Tom  shivered  and  covered  her  face.  Who 
was  more  lonely  than  she  —  she  who  had 
hungered  for  the  same  companionship  that 
she  was  denying  Jennie  ;  she  who  had  longed 
for  somebody  to  stand  between  her  and  the 
world,  some  hand  to  touch,  some  arm'  to  lean 
on  ;  she  who  must  play  the  man  always  —  the 
man  and  the  mother  too  ! 

Pop  went  on,  stroking  her  strong,  firm 
hand  with  his  stiff,  shriveled  fingers.  He 
never  looked  at  her;  his  face  was  now  too 
turned  toward  the  dying  sun. 

"  Do  ye  remimber  the  day  ye  left  me  in  the 
ould  counthry,  Mary,  wid  yer  own  Tom  ;  an' 
how  I  walked  wid  ye  to  the  turnin'  of  the 
road  ?  It  wuz  spring  thin,  an'  the  hedges  all 
white  wid  blossoms.  Look  at  thim  two  over 
169 


TOM  GROGAN 

there,  Mary,  wid  their  arms  full  o'  flowers. 
Don't  be  breakin'  their  hearts,  child." 

Tom  turned  and  slipped  her  arm  around 
the  old  man's  neck,  her  head  sinking  on  his 
shoulder.  The  tears  were  under  her  eyelids  ; 
her  heart  was  bursting ;  only  her  pride  sus- 
tained her.  Then  in  a  half-whispered  voice, 
like  a  child  telling  its  troubles,  she  said  :  — 

"Ye  don't  know — ye  don't  know,  Gran'pop. 
The  dear  God  knows  it 's  not  on  account  of 
meself.  It 's  Tom  I  'm  thinkin'  of  night  an' 
day  —  me  Tom,  me  Tom.  She  's  his  child  as 
well  as  mine.  If  he  could  only  help  me  !  He 
wanted  such  great  things  for  Jennie.  It  ud 
be  easier  if  he  had  n't  saved  Patsy.  Don't 
speak  to  me  ag'in  about  it,  father  dear  ;  it 
hurts  me." 

The  old  man  rose  from  his  chair  and  walked 
slowly  into  the  house.  All  his  talks  with  his 
daughter  ended  in  this  way.  It  was  always 
what  Tom  would  have  thought.  Why  should 
a  poor  crazy  cripple  like  her  husband,  shut  up 
in  an  asylum,  make  trouble  for  Jennie  ? 

When  the  light  faded  and  the  trees  grew 

indistinct  in  the  gloom,  Tom  still  sat  where 

Pop  had  left  her.     Soon  the  shadows  fell  in 

the   little   valley,   and   the   hill    beyond   the 

170 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 

cedars  lost  itself  in  the  deepening  haze  that 
now  crept  in  from  the  tranquil  sea. 

Carl's  voice  calling  to  Cully  to  take  in 
the  Gray  roused  her  to  consciousness.  She 
pushed  back  her  chair,  stood  for  an  instant 
watching  Carl  romping  with  Patsy,  and  then 
walked  slowly  toward  the  stable. 

By  the  time  she  reached  the  water-trough 
her  old  manner  had  returned.  Her  step  be- 
came once  more  elastic  and  firm  ;  her  strong 
will  asserted  itself.  She  had  work  to  do,  and 
at  once.  In  two  hours  the  board  would  meet. 
She  needed  all  her  energies  and  resources. 
The  lovers  must  wait ;  she  could  not  decide 
any  question  for  them  now. 

As  she  passed  the  stable  window  a  man 
in  a  fur  cap  raised  his  head  cautiously  above 
the  low  fence  and  shrank  back  into  the 
shadow. 

Tom  threw  open  the  door  and  felt  along 
the  sill  for  the  lantern  and  matches.  They 
were  not  in  their  accustomed  place.  The 
man  crouched,  ran  noiselessly  toward  the  rear 
entrance,  and  crept  in  behind  a  stall.  Tom 
laid  her  hand  on  the  haunches  of  the  horse 
and  began  rolling  back  his  blanket.  The  man 
drew  himself  up  slowly  until  his  shoulders 
171 


TOM   GROGAN 

were  on  a  level  with  the  planking.  Tom 
moved  a  step  and  turned  her  face.  The  man 
raised  his  arm,  whirled  a  hammer  high  in  the 
air,  and  brought  it  down  upon  her  head. 

When  Cully  led  the  Big  Gray  into  his  stall, 
a  moment  later,  he  stepped  into  a  pool  of 
blood. 

172 


XV 

IN    THE    SHADOW    OF    DEATH 

AT  the  appointed  hour  the  Board  of  Trus- 
tees met  in  the  hall  over  the  post-office. 
The  usual  loungers  filled  the  room  —  mem- 
bers of  the  Union,  and  others  who  had 
counted  on  a  piece  of  the  highway  pie  when 
it  was  cut.  Dempsey,  Crimmins,  and  Quigg 
sat  outside  the  rail,  against  the  wall.  They 
were  waiting  for  McGaw,  who  had  not  been 
seen  since  the  afternoon. 

The  president  was  in  his  accustomed  place. 
The  five  gentlemen  of  leisure,  the  veterinary 
surgeon,  and  the  other  trustees  occupied  their 
several  chairs.  The  roll  had  been  called,  and 
every  man  had  answered  to  his  name.  The 
occasion  being  one  of  much  importance,  a  full 
board  was  required. 

As  the  minute-hand  neared  the  hour  of  nine 
Dempsey  became  uneasy.  He  started  every 
time  a  new-comer  mounted  the  stairs.  Where 
was  McGaw  ?     No  one  had  seen  him  since 

i73 


TOM  GROGAN 

he  swallowed  the  tumblerful  of  whiskey  and 
disappeared  from  O'Leary's,  a  few  hours  be- 
fore. 

The  president  rapped  for  order,  and  an- 
nounced that  the  board  was  ready  to  sign  the 
contract  with  Thomas  Grogan  for  the  hauling 
and  delivery  of  the  broken  stone  required  for 
public  highways. 

There  was  no  response. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Grogan  here  ?  "  asked  the  presi- 
dent, looking  over  the  room  and  waiting  for 
a  reply. 

"  Is  any  one  here  who  represents  her  ?  "  he 
repeated,  after  a  pause,  rising  in  his  seat  as 
he  spoke. 

No  one  answered.  The  only  sound  heard 
in  the  room  was  that  of  the  heavy  step  of  a 
man  mounting  the  stairs. 

"  Is  there  any  one  here  who  can  speak  for 
Mrs.  Thomas  Grogan  ?  "  called  the  president 
again,  in  a  louder  voice. 

"  I  can,"  said  the  man  with  the  heavy 
tread,  who  proved  to  be  the  foreman  at  the 
brewery.  "  She  won't  live  till  mornin' ;  one 
of  her  horses  kicked  her  and  broke  her 
skull,  so  McGaw  told  me." 

"  Broke  her  skull !  My  God  !  man,  how  do 
i74 


IN  THE   SHADOW   OF  DEATH 

you   know?"   demanded    the   president,   his 
voice  trembling  with  excitement. 

Every  man's  face  was  now  turned  toward 
the  new-comer  ;  a  momentary  thrill  of  horror 
ran  through  the  assemblage. 

"  I  heard  it  at  the  druggist's.  One  of  her 
boys  was  over  for  medicine.  Dr.  Mason 
sewed  up  her  head.  He  was  drivin'  by,  on 
his  way  to  Quarantine,  when  it  happened." 

"What  Dr.  Mason?"  asked  a  trustee, 
eager  for  details. 

"  The  man  what  used  to  be  at  Quarantine 
seven  years  ago.     He  's  app'inted  ag'in." 

Dempsey  caught  up  his  hat  and  hurriedly 
left  the  room,  followed  by  Quigg  and  Crim- 
mins.  McGaw,  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  ran 
downstairs,  must  be  blind  drunk,  not  to  come 

to  the  meeting.     " him  !     What  if  he 

gives  everything  away !  "  he  added  aloud. 

"This  news  is  awful,"  said  the  president. 
"  I  am  very  sorry  for  Mrs.  Grogan  and  her 
children  —  she  was  a  fine  woman.  It  is  a 
serious  matter,  too,  for  the  village.  The 
highway  work  ought  to  commence  at  once  ; 
the  roads  need  it.  We  may  now  have  to 
advertise  again.  That  would  delay  every- 
thing for  a  month." 

*75 


TOM   GROGAN 

"  Well,  there  's  other  bids,"  said  another 
trustee,  — one  of  the  gentlemen  of  leisure,  — 
ignoring  the  president's  sympathy,  and  hope- 
ful now  of  a  possible  slice  on  his  own  account. 
"  What 's  the  matter  with  McGaw's  proposal  ? 
There 's  not  much  difference  in  the  price. 
Perhaps  he  would  come  down  to  the  Grogan 
figure.  Is  Mr.  McGaw  here,  or  anybody  who 
can  speak  for  him  ?  " 

Justice  Rowan  sat  against  the  wall.  The 
overzealous  trustee  had  exactly  expressed  his 
own  wishes  and  anxieties.  He  wanted  Mc- 
Gaw's chances  settled  at  once.  If  they  failed, 
there  was  Rowan's  own  brother  who  might 
come  in  for  the  work,  the  justice  sharing  of 
course  in  the  profits. 

"  In  the  absence  of  me  client,"  said  Rowan, 
looking  about  the  room,  and  drawing  in  his 
breath  with  an  important  air,  "  I  suppose  I 
can  ripresint  him.  I  think,  however,  that  if 
your  honorable  boord  will  go  on  with  the 
other  business  before  you,  Mr.  McGaw  will 
be  on  hand  in  half  an  hour  himself.  In  the 
mean  time  I  will  hunt  him  up." 

"  I  move,"  said  the  Scotch  surgeon,  in  a 
voice  that  showed  how  deeply  he  had  been 
affected,  "  that  the  whole  matter  be  laid  on 
176 


IN   THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH 

the  table  for  a  week,  until  we  know  for  cer- 
tain whether  poor  Mrs.  Grogan  is  killed  or 
not.  I  can  hardly  credit  it.  It  is  very  sel- 
dom that  a  horse  kicks  a  woman." 

Nobody  having  seconded  this  motion,  the 
chair  did  not  put  it.  The  fact  was  that  every 
man  was  afraid  to  move.  The  majority  of 
the  trustees,  who  favored  McGaw,  were  in 
the  dark  as  to  what  effect  Tom's  death  would 
have  upon  the  bids.  The  law  might  require 
readvertising  and  hence  a  new  competition, 
and  perhaps  somebody  much  worse  for  them 
than  Tom  might  turn  up  and  take  the  work 
■ — somebody  living  outside  of  the  village. 
Then  none  of  them  would  get  a  finger  in  the 
pie.  Worse  than  all,  the  cutting  of  it  might 
have  to  be  referred  to  the  corporation  counsel, 
Judge  Bowker.  What  his  opinion  would  be 
was  past  finding  out.  He  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  "pulls,"  and  followed  the  law  to  the 
letter. 

The  minority  —  a  minority  of  two,  the 
president  and  the  veterinary  surgeon  —  began 
to  distrust  the  spirit  of  McGaw's  adherents. 
It  looked  to  the  president  as  if  a  "  deal  " 
were  in  the  air. 

The  Scotchman,  practical,  sober-minded, 
*77 


TOM   GROGAN 

sensible  man  as  he  was,  had  old-fashioned 
ideas  of  honesty  and  fair  play.  He  had  liked 
Tom  from  the  first  time  he  saw  her,  —  he 
had  looked  after  her  stables  professionally, 
—  and  he  did  not  intend  to  see  her,  dead  or 
alive,  thrown  out,  without  making  a  fight 
for  her. 

"I  move,"  said  he,  "that  the  president 
appoint  a  committee  of  this  board  to  jump 
into  the  nearest  wagon,  drive  to  Mrs.  Gro- 
gan's,  and  find  out  whether  she  is  still  alive. 
If  she  's  dead,  that  settles  it ;  but  if  she  's 
alive,  I  will  protest  against  anything  being 
done  about  this  matter  for  ten  days.  It 
won't  take  twenty  minutes  to  find  out ;  mean- 
time we  can  take  up  the  unfinished  business 
of  the  last  meeting." 

One  of  the  gentlemen  of  leisure  seconded 
this  motion ;  it  was  carried  unanimously,  and 
this  gentleman  of  leisure  was  himself  ap- 
pointed courier,  and  left  the  room  in  a  hurry. 
He  had  hardly  reached  the  street  when  he 
was  back  again,  followed  closely  by  Demp- 
sey,  Quigg,  Crimmins,  Justice  Rowan,  and, 
last  of  all,  fumbling  with  his  fur  cap,  deathly 
pale,  and  entirely  sober  —  Dan  McGaw. 

" There's  no   use  of  my  going,"  said  the 

i78 


IN   THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH 

courier  trustee,  taking  his  seat.  "Grogan 
won't  live  an  hour,  if  she  ain't  dead  now. 
She  had  a  sick  horse  that  wanted  looking 
after,  and  she  went  into  the  stable  without  a 
light,  and  he  let  drive,  and  broke  her  skull. 
She  's  got  a  gash  the  length  of  your  hand  — 
was  n't  that  it,  Mr.  McGaw  ?  " 

McGaw  nodded  his  head. 

"  Yes  ;  that 's  about  it,"  he  said.  The  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  his  stomach,  it  was  so 
hollow. 

"Did  you  see  her,  Mr.  McGaw?"  asked 
the  Scotchman  in  a  positive  tone. 

"  How  c'u'd  I  be  a-seein'  her  whin  I  been  in 
New  Yorruk  'mos'  all  day  ?  D'  ye  think  I  'm 
runnin'  roun'  to  ivery  stable  in  the  place  ? 
I  wuz  a-comin'  'cross  lots  whin  I  heared  it. 
They  says  the  horse  had  blin'  staggers." 

"How  do  you  know,  then?"  asked  the 
Scotchman  suspiciously.  "  Who  told  you  the 
horse  kicked  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  dunno  ;  I  think  it  wuz  some  un  "  — 

Dempsey  looked  at  him  and  knit  his  brow. 
McGaw  stopped. 

"Don't  you  know  enough  of   a  horse   to 
know  he  could  n't  kick  with  blind  staggers  ?  " 
insisted  the  Scotchman. 
179 


TOM   GROGAN 

McGaw  did  not  answer. 

"  Does  anybody  know  any  of  the  facts  con- 
nected with  this  dreadful  accident  to  Mrs. 
Grogan  ? "  asked  the  president.  "  Have  you 
heard  anything,  Mr.  Quigg?" 

Mr.  Quigg  had  heard  absolutely  nothing, 
and  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Grogan  for  months. 
Mr.  Crimmins  was  equally  ignorant,  and  so 
were  several  other  gentlemen.  Here  a  voice 
came  from  the  back  of  the  room. 

"  I  met  Dr.  Mason,  sir,  an  hour  ago,  after  he 
had  attended  Tom  Grogan.  He  was  on  his 
way  to  Quarantine  in  his  buggy.  He  said  he 
left  her  insensible  after  dressin'  the  wound. 
He  thought  she  might  not  live  till  mornin'." 

"May  I  ask  your  name,  sir?"  asked  the 
president  in  a  courteous  tone. 

"Peter  Lathers.  I  am  yardmaster  at  the 
U.  S.  Lighthouse  Depot." 

The  title,  and  the  calm  way  in  which  La- 
thers spoke,  convinced  the  president  and  the 
room.  Everybody  realized  that  Tom's  life 
hung  by  a  thread.  The  Scotchman  still  had 
a  lingering  doubt.  He  also  wished  to  clear 
up  the  blind-staggers  theory. 

"  Did  he  say  how  she  was  hurt  ?  "  asked  the 
Scotchman. 

180 


IN   THE   SHADOW    OF   DEATH 

"  Yes.  He  said  he  was  a-drivin'  by  when 
they  picked  her  up,  and  he  was  dead  sure  that 
somebody  had  hid  in  the  stable  and  knocked 
her  on  the  head  with  a  club." 

McGaw  steadied  himself  with  his  hand  and 
grasped  the  seat  of  his  chair.  The  sweat 
was  rolling  from  his  face.  He  seemed  afraid 
to  look  up,  lest  some  other  eye  might  catch 
his  own  and  read  his  thoughts.  If  he  had 
only  seen  Lathers  come  in  ! 

Lathers's  announcement,  coupled  with  the 
Scotchman's  well-known  knowledge  of  equine 
diseases  discrediting  the  blind-staggers  the- 
ory, produced  a  profound  sensation.  Heads 
were  put  together,  and  low  whispers  were 
heard.  Dempsey,  Quigg,  and  Crimmins  did 
not  move  a  muscle. 

The  Scotchman  again  broke  the  silence. 

"There  seems  to  be  no  question,  gentle- 
men, that  the  poor  woman  is  badly  hurt ;  but 
she  is  still  alive,  and  while  she  breathes  we 
have  no  right  to  take  this  work  from  her. 
It 's  not  decent  to  serve  a  woman  so ;  and  I 
think,  too,  it 's  illegal.  I  again  move  that  the 
whole  matter  be  laid  upon  the  table." 

This  motion  was  not  put,  nobody  second- 
ing it. 


TOM   GROGAN 

Then  Justice  Rowan  rose.  The  speech  of 
the  justice  was  seasoned  with  a  brogue  as  deli- 
cate in  flavor  as  the  garlic  in  a  Spanish  salad. 

"  Mr.  Prisident  and  Gintlemen  of  the  Hon- 
orable Boord  of  Village  Trustees,"  said  the 
justice,  throwing  back  his  coat.  The  elabo- 
rate opening  compelled  attention  at  once. 
Such  courtesies  were  too  seldom  heard  in 
their  deliberations,  thought  the  members,  as 
they  lay  back  in  their  chairs  to  listen. 

"  No  wan  can  be  moore  pained  than  meself 
that  so  estimable  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Grogan  — 
a  woman  who  fills  so  honorably  her  every 
station  in  life  —  should  at  this  moment  be 
stricken  down  either  by  the  hand  of  an  as- 
sassin or  the  hoof  of  a  horse.  Such  acts  in 
a  law-abidin'  community  like  Rockville  bring 
with  them  the  deepest  detistation  and  the 
profoundest  sympathy.  No  wan,  I  am  sure, 
is  more  touched  by  her  misforchune  than  me 
worthy  friend  Mr.  Daniel  McGaw,  who  by  this 
direct  interposition  of  Providence  is  foorced 
into  the  position  of  being  compelled  to  assert 
his  rights  befoore  your  honorable  body,  with 
full  assurance  that  there  is  no  tribunal  in  the 
land  to  which  he  could  apply  which  would 
lind  a  more  willing  ear." 
182 


IN  THE   SHADOW   OF  DEATH 

It  was  this  sort  of  thing  that  made  Rowan 
popular. 

"  But,  gintlemen,"  — here  the  justice  curry- 
combed  his  front  hair  with  his  fingers  — 
greasy,  jet-black  hair,  worn  long,  as  befitted 
his  position,  — "  this  is  not  a  question  of 
sympathy,  but  a  question  of  law.  Your  hon- 
orable boord  advertoised  some  time  since  for 
certain  supplies  needed  for  the  growth  and 
development  of  this  most  important  of  the 
villages  of  Staten  Island.  In  this  call  it  was 
most  positively  and  clearly  stated  that  the 
contract  was  to  be  awarded  to  the  lowest 
risponsible  bidder  who  gave  the  proper  bonds. 
Two  risponses  were  made  to  this  call,  wan  by 
Mrs.  Grogan,  acting  on  behalf  of  her  hus- 
band, —  well  known  to  be  a  hopeless  cripple 
in  wan  of  the  many  charitable  institootions 
of  our  noble  State,  —  and  the  other  by  our 
distinguished  fellow-townsman,  Mr.  Daniel 
McGaw,  whom  I  have  the  honor  to  ripresint. 
With  that  strict  sinse  of  justice  which  has 
always  characterized  the  decisions  of  this 
honorable  boord,  the  contract  was  promptly 
awarded  to  Thomas  Grogan,  he  being  the 
lowest  bidder  ;  and  my  client,  Daniel  McGaw, 
—  honest  Daniel  McGaw  I  should  call  him 

*&3 


TOM   GROGAN 

if  his  presence  did  not  deter  me,  —  stood  wan 
side  in  obadience  to  the  will  of  the  people  and 
the  laws  of  the  State,  and  accepted  his  defate 
with  that  calmness  which  always  distinguishes 
the  hard-workin'  sons  of  toil,  who  are  not 
only  the  bone  and  sinoo  of  our  land,  but  its 
honor  and  proide.  But,  gintlemen," — run- 
ning his  hand  lightly  through  his  hair,  and 
then  laying  it  in  the  bulging  lapels  of  his  now 
half-buttoned  coat,  —  "  there  were  other  con- 
ditions accompanying  these  proposals  ;  to  wit, 
that  within  tin  days  from  said  openin'  the 
successful  bidder  should  appear  befoore  this 
honorable  body,  and  then  and  there  duly 
affix  his  signatoor  to  the  aforesaid  contracts, 
already  prepared  by  the  attorney  of  this 
boord,  my  honored  associate,  Judge  Bowker. 
Now,  gintlemen,  I  ask  you  to  look  at  the 
clock,  whose  calm  face,  like  a  rising  moon, 
presides  over  the  deliberations  of  this  boord, 
and  note  the  passin'  hour  ;  and  then  I  ask 
you  to  cast  your  eyes  over  this  vast  assem- 
blage and  see  if  Thomas  Grogan,  or  any 
wan  ripresinting  him  or  her,  or  who  in  any 
way  is  connected  with  him  or  her,  is  within 
the  confines  of  this  noble  hall,  to  execute  the 
mandates  of  this  distinguished  boord.  Can  it 
184 


IN   THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH 

be  believed  for  an  instant  that  if  Mrs.  Grogan, 
acting  for  her  partly  dismimbered  husband, 
Mr.  Thomas  Grogan,  had  intinded  to  sign  this 
contract,  she  would  not  have  dispatched  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind  some  Mercury,  fleet  of 
foot,  to  infarm  this  boord  of  her  desire  for 
postponement  ?  I  demand  in  the  interests  of 
justice  that  the  contract  be  awarded  to  the 
lowest  risponsible  bidder  who  is  ready  to  sign 
the  contract  with  proper  bonds,  whether  that 
bidder  is  Grogan,  McGaw,  Jones,  Robinson, 
or  Smith." 

There  was  a  burst  of  applause  and  great 
stamping  of  feet ;  the  tide  of  sympathy  had 
changed.  Rowan  had  perhaps  won  a  few 
more  votes.  This  pleased  him  evidently  more 
than  his  hope  of  cutting  the  contract  pie. 
McGaw  began  to  regain  some  of  his  color 
and  lose  some  of  his  nervousness.  Rowan's 
speech  had  quieted  him. 

The  president  gravely  rapped  for  order.  It 
was  wonderful  how  much  backbone  and  dig- 
nity and  self-respect  the  justice's  very  flat- 
tering remarks  had  injected  into  the  nine 
trustees  —  no,  eight,  for  the  Scotchman  fully 
understood  and  despised  Rowan's  oratorical 
powers. 

185 


TOM   GROGAN 

The  Scotchman  was  on  his  feet  in  an  in- 
stant. 

"  I  have  listened,"  he  said,  "  to  the  talk 
that  Justice  Rowan  has  given  us.  It 's  very 
fine  and  tonguey,  but  it  smothers  up  the 
facts.     You  can't  rob  this  woman  "  — 

"  Question  !  question  !  "  came  from  half  a 
dozen  throats. 

"  What  's  your  pleasure,  gentlemen  ?  " 
asked  the  president,  pounding  with  his  gavel. 

"  I  move,"  said  the  courier  member,  "that 
the  contract  be  awarded  to  Mr.  Daniel 
McGaw  as  the  lowest  bidder,  provided  he 
can  sign  the  contract  to-night  with  proper 
bonds." 

Four  members  seconded  it. 

"  Is  Mr.  McGaw's  bondsman  present  ?  " 
asked  the  president,  rising. 

Justice  Rowan  rose,  and  bowed  with  the 
air  of  a  foreign  banker  accepting  a  govern- 
ment loan. 

"  I  have  that  honor,  Mr.  Prisident.  I  am 
willing  to  back  Mr.  McGaw  to  the  extent  of 
me  humble  possissions,  which  are  ample,  I 
trust,  for  the  purposes  of  this  contract  "  — 
looking  around  with  an  air  of  entire  confi- 
dence. 

x86 


IN  THE   SHADOW  OF  DEATH 

"  Gentlemen,  are  you  ready  for  the  ques- 
tion ?  "  asked  the  president. 

At  this  instant  there  was  a  slight  commo- 
tion at  the  end  of  the  hall.  Half  a  dozen 
men  nearest  the  door  left  their  seats  and 
crowded  to  the  top  of  the  staircase.  Then 
came  a  voice  outside :  "  Fall  back ;  don't 
block  up  the  door  !  Get  back  there  !  "  The 
excitement  was  so  great  that  the  proceedings 
of  the  board  were  stopped. 

The  throng  parted.  The  men  near  the 
table  stood  still.  An  ominous  silence  sud- 
denly prevailed.  Daniel  McGaw  twisted  his 
head,  turned  ghastly  white,  and  would  have 
fallen  from  his  chair  but  for  Dempsey. 

Advancing  through  the  door  with  slow, 
measured  tread,  her  long  cloak  reaching  to 
her  feet  ;  erect,  calm,  fearless  ;  her  face  like 
chalk  ;  her  lips  compressed,  stifling  the  agony 
of  every  step  ;  her  eyes  deep  sunken,  black- 
rimmed,  burning  like  coals  ;  her  brow  bound 
with  a  blood-stained  handkerchief  that  barely 
hid  the  bandages  beneath,  came  Tom. 

The  deathly  hush  was  unbroken.  The  men 
fell  back  with  white,  scared  faces  to  let  her 
pass.  McGaw  cowered  in  his  chair.  Demp- 
sey' s   eyes    glistened,    a    half -sigh   of    relief 

,87 


TOM   GROGAN 

escaping   him.     Crimmins   had   not   moved ; 
the  apparition  stunned  him. 

On  she  came,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  presi- 
dent, till  she  reached  the  table.  Then  she 
steadied  herself  for  a  moment,  took  a  roll  of 
papers  from  her  dress,  and  sank  into  a  chair. 

No  one  spoke.  The  crowd  pressed  closer. 
Those  outside  the  rail  noiselessly  mounted 
the  benches  and  chairs,  craning  their  necks. 
Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  her. 

Slowly  and  carefully  she  unrolled  the  con- 
tract, spreading  it  out  before  her,  picked  up 
a  pen  from  the  table,  and  without  a  word 
wrote  her  name.  Then  she  rose  firmly,  and 
walked  steadily  to  the  door. 

Just  then  a  man  entered  within  the  rail 
and  took  her  seat.  It  was  her  bondsman, 
Mr.  Crane. 

188 


XVI 

A    FRIEND    IN    NEED 

TWO  days  after  Tom  had  signed  the  high- 
way contract,  Babcock  sat  in  his  private 
office  in  New  York,  opening  his  mail.  In  the 
outside  room  were  half  a  dozen  employees 
—  engineers  and  others  —  awaiting  their  in- 
structions. 

The  fine  spring  weather  had  come  and 
work  had  been  started  in  every  direction,  in- 
cluding the  second  section  of  the  sea-wall  at 
the  depot,  where  the  divers  were  preparing 
the  bottom  for  the  layers  of  concrete.  Tom's 
carts  had  hauled  the  stone. 

Tucked  into  the  pile  of  letters  heaped 
before  him,  Babcock's  quick  eye  caught  the 
corner  of  a  telegram.     It  read  as  follows  :  — 

Mother  hurt.  Wants  you  immediately.  Please 
come.  Jennie  Grogan. 

For  an  instant  he  sat  motionless,  gazing  at 
the  yellow  slip.     Then  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 
189 


TOM   GROGAN 

Thrusting  his  unopened  correspondence  into 
his  pocket,  he  gave  a  few  hurried  instructions 
to  his  men  and  started  for  the  ferry.  Once 
on  the  boat,  he  began  pacing  the  deck.  "  Tom 
hurt !  "  he  repeated  to  himself.  "  Tom  hurt  ? 
How  —  when  —  what  could  have  hurt  her  ?  " 
He  had  seen  her  at  the  sea-wall,  only  three 
days  before,  rosy-cheeked,  magnificent  in 
health  and  strength.  What  had  happened  ? 
At  the  St.  George  landing  he  jumped  into  a 
hack,  hurrying  the  cabman. 

Jennie  was  watching  for  him  at  the  garden 
gate.  She  said  her  mother  was  in  the  sit- 
ting-room, and  Gran'pop  was  with  her.  As 
they  walked  up  the  path  she  recounted  rap- 
idly the  events  of  the  past  two  days. 

Tom  was  on  the  lounge  by  the  window, 
under  the  flowering  plants,  when  Babcock 
entered.  She  was  apparently  asleep.  Across 
her  forehead,  covering  the  temples,  two  nar- 
row bandages  bound  up  her  wound.  At 
Babcock' s  step  she  opened  her  eyes,  her 
bruised,  discolored  face  breaking  into  a  smile. 
Then,  noting  his  evident  anxiety,  she  threw 
the  shawl  from  her  shoulders  and  sat  up. 

"  No,  don't  look  so.  It  's  nothin' ;  I  '11  be 
all  right  in  a  day  or  two.  I  've  been  hurted 
190 


A   FRIEND   IN   NEED 

before,  but  not  so  bad  as  this.  I  would  n't 
have  troubled  ye,  but  Mr.  Crane  has  gone 
West.  It  was  kind  and  friendly  o'  ye  to 
come  ;  I  knew  ye  would." 

Babcock  nodded  to  Pop,  and  sank  into  a 
chair.  The  shock  of  her  appearance  had 
completely  unnerved  him. 

"Jennie  has  told  me  about  it,"  he  said  in 
a  tender,  sympathetic  tone.  "  Who  was  mean 
enough  to  serve  you  in  this  way,  Tom  ?  "  He 
called  her  Tom  now,  as  the  others  did. 

"Well,  I  won't  say  now.  It  may  have 
been  the  horse,  but  I  hardly  think  it,  for  I 
saw  a  face.  All  I  remember  clear  is  a-layin' 
me  hand  on  the  mare's  back.  When  I  come 
to  I  was  flat  on  the  lounge.  They  had  fixed 
me  up,  and  Dr.  Mason  had  gone  off.  Only 
the  thick  hood  saved  me.  Carl  and  Cully 
searched  the  place,  but  nothin'  could  be 
found.  Cully  says  he  heard  somebody  a-run- 
nin'  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence,  but  ye 
can't  tell.  Nobody  keeps  their  heads  in  times 
like  that." 

"  Have  you  been  in  bed  ever  since  ?  "  Bab- 
cock asked. 

"  In  bed  !  God  rest  ye  !  I  was  down  to  the 
board  meetin'  two  hours  after,  wid  Mr.  Crane, 
191 


TOM   GROGAN 

and  signed  the  contract.  Jennie  and  all  of 
'em  would  n't  have  it,  and  cried  and  went  on, 
but  I  braved  'em  all.  I  knew  I  had  to  go  if 
I  died  for  it.  Mr.  Crane  had  his  buggy,  so  I 
did  n't  have  to  walk.  The  stairs  was  the 
worst.  Once  inside,  I  was  all  right.  I  only 
had  to  sign,  an'  come  out  again  ;  it  did  n't 
take  a  minute.  Mr.  Crane  stayed  and  fixed 
the  bonds  wid  the  trustees,  an'  I  come  home 
wid  Carl  and  Jennie."  Then,  turning  to  her 
father,  she  said,  "  Gran'pop,  will  ye  and  Jen- 
nie go  into  the  kitchen  for  a  while  ?  I  Ve 
some  private  business  wid  Mr.  Babcock." 

When  they  were  gone  her  whole  manner 
changed.     She  buried  her  face  for  a  moment 
in  the  pillow,   covering  her  cheek  with  her 
hands  ;  then,  turning  to  Babcock,  she  said  :  — 
"  Now,  me  friend,  will  ye  lock  the  door  ? " 
For  some  minutes  she  looked  out  of  the 
window,    through    the    curtains   and    nastur- 
tiums, then,  in  a  low,  broken  voice,  she  said  : 
"  I  'm  in  great  trouble.    Will  ye  help  me  ?  " 
"  Help  you,  Tom  ?     You  know  I  will,  and 
with   anything   I  Ve  got.     What    is   it?"  he 
said,  earnestly,  regaining  his  chair  and  draw- 
ing it  closer. 

"  Has  no  one  iver  told  ye  about  me  Tom  ?  " 
192 


A   FRIEND   IN  NEED 

she  asked,   looking  at   him  from  under  her 
eyebrows. 

"  No  ;  except  that  he  was  hurt  or  —  or  — ■ 
out  of  his  mind,  maybe,  and  you  could  n't 
bring  him  home." 

"An'  ye  have  heared  nothin'  more  ? " 

"No,"  said  Babcock,  wondering  at  her 
anxious  manner. 

"  Ye  know  that  since  he  went  away  I  've 
done  the  work  meself,  standin'  out  as  he 
would  have  done  in  the  cold  an'  wet  an' 
workin'  for  the  children  wid  nobody  to  help 
me  but  these  two  hands." 

Babcock  nodded.  He  knew  how  true  it 
was. 

"  Ye  've  wondered  many  a  time,  maybe, 
that  I  niver  brought  him  home  an'  had  him 
round  wid  me  other  poor  cripple,  Patsy  — 
them  two  togither."  Her  voice  fell  almost  to 
a  whisper. 

"  Or  ye  thought,  maybe,  it  was  mean  and 
cruel  in  me  that  I  kep'  him  a  burden  on  the 
State,  when  I  was  able  to  care  for  him  me- 
self.    Well,  ye '11  think  so  no  more." 

Babcock  began  to  see  now  why  he  had  been 
sent  for.  His  heart  went  out  to  her  all  the 
more. 

J93 


TOM   GROGAN 

"Tom,  is  your  husband  dead?"  he  asked, 
with  a  quiver  in  his  voice. 

She  never  took  her  eyes  from  his  face. 
Few  people  were  ever  tender  with  her ;  they 
never  seemed  to  think  she  needed  it.  She 
read  this  man's  sincerity  and  sympathy  in  his 
eyes  ;  then  she  answered  slowly  :  — 

"He  is,  Mr.  Babcock." 

"  When  did  he  die  ?  Was  it  last  night, 
Tom?" 

"  Listen  to  me  fust,  an'  then  I  '11  tell  ye. 
Ye  must  know  that  when  me  Tom  was  hurted, 
seven  years  ago,  we  had  a  small  place,  an' 
only  three  horses,  and  them  war  n't  paid  for ; 
an'  we  had  the  haulin'  at  the  brewery,  an'  that 
was  about  all  we  did  have.  When  Tom  had 
been  sick  a  month  —  it  was  the  time  the 
bucket  fell  an'  broke  his  rib — the  new  con- 
tract at  the  brewery  was  let  for  the  year,  an' 
Schwartz  give  it  to  us,  a-thinkin'  that  Tom  'd 
be  round  ag'in,  an'  niver  carin',  so  's  his  work 
was  done,  an'  I  doin'  it,  me  bein'  big  an 
strong,  as  I  always  was.  Me  Tom  got  worse 
an'  worse,  an'  I  saw  him  a-failin',  an'  one  day 
Dr.  Mason  stopped  an'  said  if  I  brought  him 
to  Bellevue  Hospital,  where  he  had  just  been 
appointed,  he  'd  fix  up  his  rib  so  he  could 
194 


A   FRIEND   IN   NEED 

breathe  easier,  and  maybe  he  'd  get  well. 
Well,  I  hung  on  an'  on,  thinkin'  he  'd  get 
better,  —  poor  fellow,  he  did  n't  want  to  go, 
—  but  one  night,  about  dark,  I  took  the  Big 
Gray  an'  put  him  to  the  cart,  an'  bedded  it 
down  wid  straw  ;  an'  I  wrapped  me  Tom  up 
in  two  blankits  an'  carried  him  downstairs 
in  me  own  arms,  an'  driv  slow  to  the  ferry." 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  leaned  her 
bruised  head  on  her  hand,  and  then  went 
on  :  — 

"When  I  got  to  Bellevue,  over  by  the 
river,  it  was  near  ten  o'clock  at  night.  No- 
body stopped  me  or  iver  looked  into  me 
bundle  of  straw  where  me  poor  boy  lay  ;  an' 
I  rung  the  bell,  an'  they  came  out,  an'  got 
him  up  into  the  ward,  an'  laid  him  on  the  bed. 
Dr.  Mason  was  on  night  duty,  an'  come  an' 
looked  at  him,  an'  said  I  must  come  over  the 
next  day  ;  an'  I  kissed  me  poor  Tom  an'  left 
him  tucked  in,  promisin'  to  be  back  early  in 
the  mornin'.  I  had  got  only  as  far  as  the 
gate  on  the  street  whin  one  of  the  men  came 
a-runnin'  after  me.  I  thought  he  had  fainted, 
and  ran  back  as  fast  as  I  could,  but  when  I 
got  me  arms  under  him  again  —  he  was  dead." 

"  And  all  this  seven  years  ago,  Tom  ? " 
J95 


TOM   GROGAN 

said  Babcock  in  astonishment,  sinking  back 
in  his  chair. 

Tom  bowed  her  head.  The  tears  were 
trickling  through  her  fingers  and  falling  on 
the  coarse  shawl. 

"  Yis  ;  seven  years  ago  this  June."  She 
paused  for  a  moment,  as  if  the  scene  was 
passing  before  her  in  every  detail,  and  then 
went  on  :  "  Whin  I  come  home  I  niver  said 
a  word  to  anybody  but  Jennie.  I  've  niver 
told  Pop  yit.  Nobody  else  would  have  cared  ; 
we  was  strangers  here.  The  next  mornin'  I 
took  Jennie,  —  she  was  a  child  then,  —  an' 
we  wint  over  to  the  city,  an'  I  got  what 
money  I  had,  an'  the  doctors  helped,  an'  we 
buried  him  ;  nobody  but  just  us  two,  Jennie 
an'  me,  walkin'  behint  the  wagon,  his  poor 
body  in  the  box.  Whin  I  come  home  I 
wanted  to  die,  but  I  said  nothin'.  I  was 
afraid  Schwartz  would  take  the  work  away  if 
he  knew  it  was  only  a  woman  who  was  a-doin' 
it  wid  no  man  round,  an  so  I  kep'  on  ;  an' 
whin  the  neighbors  asked  about  him  bein'  in 
a  'sylum  an'  out  of  his  head,  an'  a  cripple  an' 
all  that,  God  forgive  me,  I  was  afraid  to  tell, 
and  I  kept  still  and  let  it  go  at  that  ;  an' 
whin  they  asked  me  how  he  was  I  'd  say  he 
196 


A   FRIEND   IN  NEED 

was  better,  or  more  comfortable,  or  easier ; 
an'  so  he  was,  thank  God  !  bein'  in  heaven." 

She  roused  herself  wearily,  and  wiped  her 
eyes  with  the  back  of  her  hand.  Babcock  sat 
motionless. 

"  Since  that  I  've  kep'  the  promise  to  me 
Tom  that  I  made  on  me  knees  beside  his  bed 
the  night  I  lifted  him  in  me  arms  to  take  him 
downstairs  —  that  I  'd  keep  his  name  clean, 
and  do  by  it  as  he  would  hev  done  himself,  an' 
bring  up  the  children,  an'  hold  the  roof  over 
their  heads.  An'  now  they  say  I  dar'  n't  be 
called  by  Tom's  name,  nor  sign  it  neither,  an' 
they  're  a-goin'  to  take  me  contract  away  for 
puttin'  his  name  at  the  bottom  of  it,  just  as 
I  've  put  it  on  ivery  other  bit  o'  paper  I  've 
touched  ink  to  these  seven  years  since  he  left 
me." 

"  Why,  Tom,  this  is  nonsense.  Who  says 
so  ? "  said  Babcock  earnestly,  glad  of  any 
change  of  feeling  to  break  the  current  of  her 
thoughts. 

"  Dan  McGaw  an'  Rowan  says  so," 

"  What 's  McGaw  got  to  do  with  it  ?  He  's 
out  of  the  fight." 

"  Oh,  ye  don't  know  some  men,  Mr.  Bab- 
cock. McGaw  '11  never  stop  fightin'  while  I 
197 


TOM   GROG AN 

live.  Maybe  I  ought  n't  tell  ye,  —  I  've  niver 
told  anybody, — but  whin  my  Tom  lay  sick 
upstairs,  McGaw  come  in  one  night,  an'  his 
own  wife  half  dead  with  a  blow  he  had  given 
her,  an'  sat  down  in  this  very  room,  —  it  was 
our  kitchen  then,  —  an'  he  says,  '  If  your  man 
don't  git  well,  ye  '11  be  broke.'  An'  I  says  to 
him,  '  Dan  McGaw,  if  I  live  twelve  months, 
Tom  Grogan  '11  be  a  richer  man  than  he  is 
now.'  I  was  a-sittin'  right  here  when  I  said 
it,  wid  a  rag  carpet  on  this  floor,  an'  hardly 
any  furniture  in  the  room.  He  said  more 
things,  an'  tried  to  make  love  to  me,  and  I  let 
drive  and  threw  him  out  of  me  kitchen.  Then 
all  me  trouble  wid  him  began  ;  he  's  done 
everything  to  beat  me  since,  and  now  maybe, 
after  all,  he  '11  down  me.  It  all  come  up  yis- 
terday  through  McGaw  meetin'  Dr.  Mason 
an'  askin'  him  about  me  Tom ;  an'  whin  the 
doctor  told  him  Tom  was  dead  seven  years, 
McGaw  runs  to  Justice  Rowan  wid  the  story, 
an'  now  they  say  I  can't  sign  a  dead  man's 
name.  Judge  Bowker  has  the  papers,  an' 
it 's  all  to  be  settled  to-morrow." 

"  But  they  can't  take  your  contract  away," 
said  Babcock  indignantly,  "no  matter  what 
Rowan  says." 

198 


A   FRIEND   IN   NEED 

"  Oh,  it 's  not  that  —  it 's  not  that.  That  's 
not  what  hurts  me.  I  can  git  another  con- 
tract. That 's  not  what  breaks  me  heart. 
But  if  they  take  me  Tom's  name  from  me, 
an'  say  I  can't  be  Tom  Grogan  any  more  ;  its 
like  robbin'  me  of  my  life.  When  I  work  on 
the  docks  I  alius  brace  myself  an'  say  '  I  'm 
doing  just  what  Tom  did  many  a  day  for  me.' 
When  I  sign  his  name  to  me  checks  an' 
papers,  —  the  name  I  've  loved  an'  that  I  've 
worked  for,  the  name  I  've  kep'  clean  for  him 
■ —  me  Tom  that  loved  me,  an'  never  lied  or 
was  mean  —  me  Tom  that  I  promised,  an' 
—  an'  "  — 

All  the  woman  in  her  overcame  her  now. 
Sinking  to  her  knees,  she  threw  her  arms 
and  head  on  the  lounge,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Babcock  rested  his  head  on  his  hand,  and 
looked  on  in  silence.  Here  was  something, 
it  seemed  to  him,  too  sacred  for  him  to  touch 
even  with  his  sympathy. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  when  she  grew  more 
quiet,  his  whole  heart  going  out  to  her,  "  what 
do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  ye  can  do  anything," 
she  said  in  a  quivering  voice,  lifting  her  head, 
her  eyes  still  wet.  "  Perhaps  nobody  can. 
199 


TOM   GROGAN 

But  I  thought  maybe  ye  'd  go  wid  me  to 
Judge  Bowker  in  the  mornin\  Rowan  an'  all 
of  'em  '11  be  there,  an'  I  'm  no  match  for 
these  lawyers.  Perhaps  ye  'd  speak  to  the 
judge  for  me." 

Babcock  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  knew  ye  would,  an'  I  thank  ye,"  she 
said,  drying  her  eyes.  "  Now  unlock  the 
door,  an'  let  'em  in.  They  worry  so.  Gran'- 
pop  has  n't  slep'  a  night  since  I  was  hurted, 
an'  Jennie  goes  round  cryin'  all  the  time, 
sayin'  they  '11  be  a-killin'  me  next." 

Then,  rising  to  her  feet,  she  called  out  in  a 
cheery  voice,  as  Babcock  opened  the  door, 
"  Come  in,  Jennie  ;  come  in  Gran'pop.  It 's 
all  over,  child.  Mr.  Babcock  's  a-going  wid 
me  in  the  mornin'.  Niver  fear  ;  we  '11  down 
'em  all  yit." 


XVII 

A    DANIEL    COME    TO   JUDGMENT 

WHEN  Judge  Bowker  entered  his  office 
adjoining  the  village  bank,  Justice 
Rowan  had  already  arrived.  So  had  McGaw, 
Dempsey,  Crimmins,  Quigg,  the  president  of 
the  board,  and  one  or  two  of  the  trustees. 
The  judge  had  sent  for  McGaw  and  the  pres- 
ident, and  they  had  notified  the  others. 

McGaw  sat  next  to  Dempsey.  His  extreme 
nervousness  of  a  few  days  ago  —  starting 
almost  at  the  sound  of  his  own  footstep  — 
had  given  place  to  a  certain  air  of  bravado, 
now  that  everybody  in  the  village  believed 
the  horse  had  kicked  Tom. 

Babcock  and  Tom  were  by  the  window,  she 
listless  and  weary,  he  alert  and  watchful  for 
the  slightest  point  in  her  favor.  She  had  on 
her  brown  dress,  washed  clean  of  the  blood- 
stains, and  the  silk  hood,  which  better  con- 
cealed the  bruises.  All  her  old  fire  and 
energy  were  gone.  It  was  not  from  the 
201 


TOM   GROGAN 

shock  of  her  wound,  —  her  splendid  constitu- 
tion was  fast  healing  that,  —  but  from  this 
deeper  hurt,  this  last  thrust  of  McGaw's 
which  seemed  to  have  broken  her  indomitable 
spirit. 

Babcock,  although  he  did  not  betray  his 
misgivings,  was  greatly  worried  over  the  out- 
come of  McGaw's  latest  scheme.  He  wished 
in  his  secret  heart  that  Tom  had  signed  her 
own  name  to  the  contract.  He  was  afraid 
so  punctilious  a  man  as  the  judge  might  de- 
cide against  her.  He  had  never  seen  him  ; 
he  only  knew  that  no  other  judge  in  his  dis- 
trict had  so  great  a  reputation  for  technical 
rulings. 

When  the  judge  entered  —  a  small,  gray- 
haired,  keen-eyed  man  in  a  black  suit,  with 
gold  spectacles,  spotless  linen,  and  clean- 
shaven face  —  Babcock's  fears  were  con- 
firmed. This  man,  he  felt,  would  be  legally 
exact,  no  matter  who  suffered  by  his  decision. 

Rowan  opened  the  case,  the  judge  listen- 
ing attentively,  looking  over  his  glasses. 
Rowan  recounted  the  details  of  the  advertise- 
ment, the  opening  of  the  bids,  the  award  of 
the  contract,  the  signing  of  "Thomas  Gro- 
gan  "  in  the  presence  of  the  full  board,  and 


A  DANIEL  COME   TO   JUDGMENT 

the  discovery  by  his  "  honored  client  that  no 
such  man  existed,  had  not  existed  for  years, 
and  did  not  now  exist." 

"Dead,  your  Honor" — throwing  out  his 
chest  impressively,  his  voice  swelling  —  "  dead 
in  his  grave  these  siven  years,  this  Mr.  Thomas 
Grogan  ;  and  yet  this  woman  has  the  bald  and 
impudent  effrontery  to  "  — 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Rowan." 

Police  justices  — justices  like  Rowan  —  did 
not  count  much  with  Judge  Bowker,  and  then 
he  never  permitted  any  one  to  abuse  a  woman 
in  his  presence. 

"  The  point  you  make  is  that  Mrs.  Grogan 
had  no  right  to  sign  her  name  to  a  contract 
made  out  in  the  name  of  her  dead  husband." 

"I  do,  your  Honor,"  said  Rowan,  resum- 
ing his  seat. 

"  Why  did  you  sign  it  ? "  asked  Judge 
Bowker,  turning  to  Tom. 

She  looked  at  Babcock.  He  nodded  as- 
sent, and  then  she  answered  :  — 

"  I  alius  signed  it  so  since  he  left  me." 

There  was  a  pleading,  tender  pathos  in  her 
words  that  startled  Babcock.  He  could  hardly 
believe  the  voice  to  be  Tom's. 

The  judge  looked  at  her  with  a  quick,  pene- 
203 


TOM   GROGAN 

trating  glance,  which  broadened  into  an  ex- 
pression  of  kindly  interest  when  he  read  her 
entire  honesty  in  her  face.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  president  of  the  board. 

"  When  you  awarded  this  contract,  whom 
did  you  expect  to  do  the  work,  Mrs.  Grogan 
or  her  husband?" 

"Mrs.  Grogan,  of  course.  She  has  done 
her  own  work  for  years,"  answered  the  presi- 
dent. 

The  judge  tapped  the  arm  of  his  chair  with 
his  pencil.  The  taps  could  be  heard  all  over 
the  room.  Most  men  kept  quiet  in  Bowker's 
presence,  even  men  like  Rowan.  For  some 
moments  his  Honor  bent  over  the  desk  and 
carefully  examined  the  signed  contract  spread 
out  before  him  ;  then  he  pushed  it  back,  and 
glanced  about  the  room. 

"Is  Mr.  Crane,  the  bondsman,  present  ?" 

"Mr.  Crane  has  gone  West,  sir,"  said  Bab- 
cock,  rising.  "  I  represent  Mrs.  Grogan  in 
this  matter." 

"Did  Mr.  Crane  sign  this  bond  knowing 
that  Mrs.  Grogan  would  haul  the  stone  ? " 

"  He  did  ;  and  I  can  add  that  all  her  checks, 
receipts,  and  correspondence  are  signed  in 
the  same  way,  and  have  been  for  years.  She 
204 


A   DANIEL   COME   TO   JUDGMENT 

is  known  everywhere  as  Tom  Grogan.  She 
has  never  had  any  other  name  —  in  her  busi- 
ness." 

"Who  else  objects  to  this  award?"  said 
the  judge  calmly. 

Rowan  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  judge 
looked  at  him. 

"  Please  sit  down,  Justice  Rowan.  I  said 
'who  else'  I  have  heard  you."  He  knew 
Rowan. 

Dempsey  jumped  from  his  chair. 

"  I  'm  opposed  to  it,  yer  Honor,  an*  so  is 
all  me  fri'nds  here.  This  woman  has  been 
invited  into  the  Union,  and  treats  us  as  if  we 
was  dogs.     She  "  — 

"Are  you  a  bidder  for  this  work?"  asked 
the  judge. 

"  No,  sir ;  but  the  Union  has  rights,  and  "  — ■ 

"  Please  take  your  seat ;  only  bidders  can 
be  heard  now." 

"  But  who  's  to  stand  up  for  the  rights  of 
the  laborin'  man  if  "  — 

"  You  can,  if  you  choose ;  but  not  here. 
This  is  a  question  of  evidence." 

"  Who  's  Bowker  anyhow  ? "  said  Dempsey 
behind  his  hand  to  Quigg.  "  Ridin'  'round 
in  his  carriage  and  chokin'  off  free  speech  ? " 
205 


TOM   GROGAN 

After  some  moments  of  thought  the  judge 
turned  to  the  president  of  the  board,  and  said 
in  a  measured,  deliberate  voice  :  — 

"  This  signature,  in  my  opinion,  is  a  proper 
one.  No  fraud  is  charged,  and  under  the 
testimony  none  was  intended.  The  law  gives 
Mrs.  Grogan  the  right  to  use  any  title  she 
chooses  in  conducting  her  business  —  her 
husband's  name,  or  any  other.  The  contract 
must  stand  as  it  is." 

Here  the  judge  arose  and  entered  his  pri- 
vate office,  shutting  the  door  behind  him. 

Tom  had  listened  with  eyes  dilating,  every 
nerve  in  her  body  at  highest  tension.  Her 
contempt  for  Rowan  in  his  abuse  of  her ; 
her  anger  against  Dempsey  at  his  insults  ; 
her  gratitude  to  Babcock  as  he  stood  up  to 
defend  her  ;  her  fears  for  the  outcome,  as 
she  listened  to  the  calm,  judicial  voice  of  the 
judge, — each  producing  a  different  sensa- 
tion of  heat  and  cold,  —  were  all  forgotten 
in  the  wild  rush  of  joy  that  surged  through 
her  as  the  judge's  words  fell  upon  her  ear. 
She  shed  no  tears,  as  other  women  might 
have  done.  Every  fibre  of  her  being  seemed 
to  be  turned  to  steel.  She  was  herself  again 
—  she,  Tom  Grogan  !  —  firm  on  her  own  feet, 
206 


A   DANIEL  COME  TO  JUDGMENT 

with  her  big  arms  ready  to  obey  her,  and  her 
head  as  clear  as  a  bell,  master  of  herself, 
master  of  her  rights,  master  of  everything 
about  her.  And,  above  all,  master  of  the 
dear  name  of  her  Tom  that  nothing  could 
take  from  her  now  —  not  even  the  law  ! 

With  this  tightening  of  her  will  power 
there  quivered  through  her  a  sense  of  her 
own  wrongs  —  the  wrongs  she  had  endured 
for  years,  the  wrongs  that  had  so  nearly 
wrecked  her  life. 

Then,  forgetting  the  office,  the  still  solem- 
nity of  the  place  —  even  Babcock  —  she 
walked  straight  up  to  McGaw,  blocking  his 
ex;t  to  the  street  door. 

"  Dan  McGaw,  there  's  a  word  I  've  got  for 
ye  before  ye  l'ave  this  place,  an'  I  'm  a-going 
to  say  it  to  ye  now  before  ivery  man  in  this 
room." 

McGaw  shrank  back  in  alarm. 

"  You  an'  I  have  known  each  other  since 
the  time  I  nursed  yer  wife  when  yer  boy  Jack 
was  born,  an'  helped  her  through  when  she 
was  near  dyin'  from  a  kick  ye  give  her.  Ye 
began  yer  dirty  work  on  me  one  night  when 
me  Tom  lay  sick,  an'  I  threw  ye  out  o'  me 
kitchen  ;  an'  since  that  time  ye  've  "  — 
207 


TOM   GROGAN 

"  Here !  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  stand  here  an* 
listen  ter  yer.     Git  out  o'  me  way,  or  I  '11 "  — ■ 

Tom  stepped  closer,  her  eyes  flashing, 
every  word  ringing  clear. 

"  Stand  still,  an'  hear  what  I  've  got  to  say 
to  ye,  or  I  '11  go  into  that  room  and  make  a 
statement  to  the  judge  that  '11  put  ye  where 
ye  won't  move  for  years.  There  was  enough 
light  for  me  to  see.  Look  at  this  "  —  drawing 
back  her  hood,  and  showing  the  bandaged  scar. 

McGaw  seemed  to  shrivel  up ;  the  crowd 
stood  still  in  amazement. 

"  I  thought  ye  would.  Now,  I  '11  go  on. 
Since  that  night  in  me  kitchen  ye  've  tried  to 
ruin  me  in  ivery  other  way  ye  could.  Ye  've 
set  these  dead  beats  Crimmins  and  Quigg  on 
to  me  to  coax  away  me  men  ;  ye  've  stirred 
up  the  Union  ;  ye  burned  me  stable  "  — 

"  Ye  lie !  It 's  a  tramp  did  it,"  snarled 
McGaw. 

"  Ye  better  keep  still  till  I  get  through, 
Dan  McGaw.  I  've  got  the  can  that  helt  the 
ker'sene,  an'  I  know  where  yer  boy  Billy 
bought  it,  an'  who  set  him  up  to  it,"  she 
added,  looking  straight  at  Crimmins.  "  He 
might  'a'  been  a  dacent  boy  but  for  him." 
Crimmins  turned  pale  and  bit  his  lip. 
208 


A   DANIEL  COME   TO   JUDGMENT 

The  situation  became  intense.  Even  the 
judge,  who  had  come  out  of  his  private  room 
at  the  attack,  listened  eagerly. 

"  Ye  've  been  a  sneak  an'  a  coward  to  serve 
a  woman  so  who  never  harmed  ye.  Now  I 
give  ye  fair  warnin',  an'  I  want  two  or  three 
other  men  in  this  room  to  listen ;  if  this 
don't  stop,  ye  '11  all  be  behint  bars  where 
ye  belong.  —  I  mean  you,  too,  Mr.  Dempsey. 
As  for  you,  Dan  McGaw,  if  it  war  n't  for  yer 
wife  Kate,  who  's  a  dacent  woman,  ye  'd  go 
to-day.  Now,  one  thing  more,  an'  I  '11  let  ye 
go.  I  've  bought  yer  chattel  mortgage  of 
Mr.  Crane  that 's  past  due,  an'  I  can  do  wid 
it  as  I  pl'ase.  You  '11  send  to  me  in  the 
mornin'  two  of  yer  horses  to  take  the  places 
of  those  ye  burned  up,  an'  if  they  're  not  in 
my  stable  by  siven  o'clock  I  '11  be  round  yer 
way  'bout  nine  with  the  sheriff." 

Once  outside  in  the  sunlight,  she  became 
herself  again.  The  outburst  had  cleared  her 
soul  like  a  thunder-clap.  She  felt  as  free  as 
air.  The  secret  that  had  weighed  her  down 
for  years  was  off  her  mind.  What  she  had 
whispered  to  her  own  heart  she  could  now 
proclaim  from  the  housetops.  Even  the  law 
protected  her. 

209 


TOM  GROGAN 

Babcock  walked  beside  her,  silent  and 
grave.  She  seemed  to  him  like  some  Joan 
with  flaming  sword. 

When  they  reached  the  road  that  led  to 
her  own  house,  her  eyes  fell  upon  Jennie  and 
Carl.  They  had  walked  down  behind  them, 
and  were  waiting  under  the  trees. 

"  There  's  one  thing  more  ye  can  do  for 
me,  my  friend,"  she  said,  turning  to  Babcock. 
"  All  the  old  things  Tom  an'  I  did  togither  I 
can  do  by  meself ;  but  it 's  new  things  like 
Carl  an'  Jennie  that  trouble  me  —  the  new 
things  I  can't  ask  him  about.  Do  ye  see 
them  two  yonder  ?  Am  I  free  to  do  for  'em 
as  I  would  ?  No  ;  ye  need  n't  answer.  I  see 
it  in  yer  face.  Come  here,  child  ;  I  want  ye. 
Give  me  yer  hand." 

For  an  instant  she  stood  looking  into  their 
faces,  her  eyes  brimming.  Then  she  took  Jen- 
nie's hand,  slipped  it  into  Carl's,  and  laying 
her  big,  strong  palm  over  the  two,  said  slowly  : 

"  Now  go  home,  both  o'  ye,  to  the  house 
that  '11  shelter  ye,  pl'ase  God,  as  long  as  ye 
live." 

2IO 


Before  the  highway-work  was  finished, 
McGaw  was  dead  and  Billy  and  Crimmins 
in  Sing  Sing.  The  label  on  the  empty  can, 
Quigg's  volunteered  testimony,  and  Judge 
Bowker's  charge,  convinced  the  jury.  Quigg 
had  quarreled  with  Crimmins  and  the  com- 
mittee, and  took  that  way  of  getting  even. 

When  Tom  heard  the  news,  she  left  her 
teams  standing  in  the  road  and  went  straight 
to  McGaw's  house.  His  widow  sat  on  a 
broken  chair  in  an  almost  empty  room. 

"  Don't  cry,  Katy,"  said  Tom,  bending 
over  her.  "  I  'm  sorry  for  Billy.  Seems  to 
me,  ye  've  had  a  lot  o'  trouble  since  Dan  was 
drowned.  It  was  not  all  Billy's  fault.  It  was 
Crimmins  that  put  him  up  to  it.  But  ye  've 
one  thing  left,  and  that 's  yer  boy  Jack.  Let 
me  take  him  —  I  '11  make  a  man  of  him." 

Jack  is  still  with  her.  Tom  says  he  is  the 
best  man  in  her  gang. 


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